Through a Prism
by TiA995
Summary: 'My life was pretty eventful. And that might be an enormous understatement.' This story contains a collection of some never before seen or not enough explored moments of the life of Adrian Ivashkov. Told by the man himself, naturally. You might laugh or cry or do both through this crazy trip down the memory lane, but either way it'll hardly leave you indifferent.
1. CH1 - How the Party started

**This tiny (or not so much) story is dedicated to the amazing person that changed my life for the better since the moment I met her (am I poetic or what?)! Gaya - you beautiful, kind and loving human being, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I wish you all the best and hope that you'll never change because you are perfect just the way you are! Also I hope you like your birthday present *fingers crossed*!**

 **Special thanks to the wonderful girls that helped me bring this story to life by their never-ending support and assistance. I never could have done this without you two sweethearts! Big virtual hugs and kisses to Megan - the brilliant editor of this story who patiently went through all of my countless drafts filled with insane ideas and brought a few of her own to the table! And Angie - the killer artist who created _my Adrian_ out of thin air and helped me pick just the right design for the cover while kindly listening to my confusing requests and insane visions! **

**Now, I'll state here that this story IS RATED M FOR A REASON! It will touch on or deeply explore sensitive topics and explicit themes (sex, excessive drinking, drug use, mental illnesses, suicidal thoughts, verbal abuse etc.) so please stay away from it if you are easily offended or if you think you can be triggered by it!**

 **P.S. FF names of these lovely ladies are: ohorpheuss - Gaya, megamorr - Megan and katnipsc - Angie!**

 **P.P.S. Read the AN on the bottom for an additional few words! ;)**

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 _Dear diary,_

 _For the love of holy Vodka this is so stupid. Why I am doing this is seriously beyond me, especially since I find it utterly useless. My shrink, yeah MY SHRINK thought that writing a diary would help me get better, help me keep my thoughts straighter and more collected or whatever. I'm not a freaking child in a need of a diary as an outlet for immature angst-filled whining. I mean, who the hell was dumb enough to give this dude a diploma, The Stupefying University of Redundancy? And who does he think he is bossing me around like_ —.

Wow! I was one hell of a frustrated little twerp, wasn't I? It's no surprise though, looking at it from a perspective of a grown or perhaps an overgrown man. Okay, okay, fine! No perhaps about it! Yeah, I'm old now, sue me! And I guess it's because I'm old that I have a tendency to reminisce about my life so far. There were some bad moments, there were some good ones. I'd been up and down, miserable and happy beyond words. I've done some things I shouldn't have and some I most definitely should have. In moments like this, I sometimes like to go back through the materialization of those memories: browsing through pictures, mementos and my latest favourite — my diary. Yep, I had one. Not by choice as you can see from the entry I'd showed you. Regardless, since you're already here, let me share these sappy evocations with you. Ready? Okay!

Growing up in a home that was as close to broken as it could be inevitably produced a lot of rage in a kid who had yet to find his way. It could've been much worse, that was for sure. At least my father wasn't a drunk or a drug addict. He didn't beat my mom and he'd rarely hit me. When he did it, it was mostly a slap on the back of my head in order to remind me I should behave and it happened only a few times when I was really young.

This 'journal of angst' was started when I was fifteen years old and let me just tell you... I wasn't doing so well at the time. I guess my emotions kept getting bottled up ever since I was taught they meant weakness and weakness was what allowed people to walk all over you whenever they pleased. Naturally, an unhealthy attitude like that was bound to get me to the point where I'd explode.

The thing that also wasn't working in my favour at the time was that I had yet to see that not only was I not going to be among the first to discover my element, but I wasn't going to be among the last either. I was actually going to fall so much behind my pears that all hell was going to break loose. And what did my parents do when I finally lost it and—. Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself here.

First things first, let me paint the family portrait for you: Workaholic father who had very little feelings towards things that couldn't benefit him in any way, sedated mother who played her part well in this charade of a family for the better part of her life, a great aunt who for some reason decided to pay attention to this lost boy that was related to her despite having better things to do, like... I don't know, rule over our entire fucking society and a bunch of crazy cousins that are not even worth the mention if I'm being honest.

My father, oh that man was hell. You know, sometimes I would find myself wishing he'd beat the living crap out of me instead of doing what he always did. Verbal abuse, I think that's the right term for it. Or, another personal favourite, blatant disregard. You might wonder what kind of a lunatic would wish to get beaten and I wouldn't blame you if you did. The thing is, words can sometimes hurt you more than a punch, they can cut deeper than a knife and they can break you beyond repair. And the silence, heaven help me, it could drive you insane. The meaning behind it, the judging, the pressure, it makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs and beg for it to stop. So yeah, sometimes I wanted a hit, a strong one, because then at least he'd acknowledge my existence or stop making me feel so insignificant.

My father was the kind of man that seemed like he was programed and born with a scolding expression. He covered it well with fake smiles and pleasantries when need be, but he had no reason to give me either, ever. No, I knew exactly who he was behind the persona he presented to the rest of the world. I used think it must have been something I'd said or done, but in time I learned that the hatred and fury he aimed at me were nothing more than the uncalled-for reactions of a deeply unsatisfied man. And what was he unsatisfied with? It beats me, but it must have been pretty much everything. I knew very little about his parents, I only saw them a handful of times when I was a child, and I didn't know if he too, just like I did, strived to achieve things just to prove himself to them and earn their praises. If he did, he must have received the same thing I got from him — jack shit. Zilch, zero, zip, nada! Still, that was no excuse for him to treat his kid the way he did. Or his wife. Or anyone else who he considered to be below him or unworthy of his time, and let me tell you, that was a hell of a lot people.

I could go on for days and tell you about all of the things he'd said to me throughout my childhood, tell you about the wounds he inflicted by his words which went so deep it took me years to heal them. Some scars are still there, but I'd learned to ignore them. Or I could just sum it up because, honestly, I've already given him way more attention than he deserves, way more than he had ever offered to me. Plus, I have more important things to tell you and this is just the beginning. And there is no better way to show you the lengths of his cruelty than to take you back to... here:

 _He looked me dead in the eyes and told me I'm a failure, that I'll never be anything more than that. And I believed him. I know I'm always going to be less than everyone else, that I'll probably never amount to something. Aunt Tatiana said I was special, but maybe it was just her way of saying I'm lacking in a nicer way. Why did I have to be a freak? I just want... I don't even know what I want anymore. All I know is that there is one thing he's wrong about. I'm not imagining things, I'm not pretending to have problems. They are as real as I am. Unless I'm not real. But I have to be, because I feel. And what I feel is_ —.

Shish, I get chills just reading this. This shouldn't be a part of... wait, how old was I? Right, at this point sixteen! I had to skip ahead a little. As I was saying, these are not the words a sixteen year old should be writing down in his diary. No, he should be writing about hot naked chicks or getting to the second or third base, maybe even the fourth if he is a lucky bastard and an early bloomer. Some entries later on... well I ripped them out of this old leather-bound goldmine of my thoughts for a reason. They are not the only pages I ripped out, but I'll get to that later.

So this is it. This is the shorter (yeah, I know, not so much) version of who Nathan Ivashkov was. Don't get me wrong though. Despite all of his flaws, this man was still my father. Like it or not, I had some 'positive' feeling towards him after all. _Some_. I brought my kids over to his house a few times. He behaved, even went as far as to give them money to buy candy, much to Sydney's disapproval who was quick to switch candy to apples and oranges. I went to his funeral, though I drank my way through most of it once again MUCH to Sydney's disapproval. I'd remember him from time to time. I wouldn't go as far as to say I missed him, but the memory of him didn't fade away and it wasn't all dismal.

My mom — that was a woman I sometimes hated and sometimes loved, sometimes condemned and sometimes admired, sometimes questioned and sometimes trusted, but either way always kept her close to my heart. To some she seemed like a very shallow and simple woman, but she was as mysterious as the questions of the universe and then some. I'd put a lot of effort into figuring her out myself and occasionally I wonder if I ever truly did.

When I was very little she used to tell me I was her angel. She repeated it enough times to make sure I knew it, make sure I'd remember it always. I didn't know what her life with my father was like before I came to this earth, but since the second she held me in her arms for the first time there was only room for the love she had for me in her heart and nothing else. She had a funny way of showing it sometimes, mostly when I was older and she had become more emotionally spent, but I'm certain to this very day she never loved me any less at any point.

I think I was around six or seven when she shut down, when all the energy within her withered and she became a zombie, aimlessly walking around and plastering this 'everything is fine' smile on her face that I think lingered even when she was asleep. I walked through dreams, but at least I knew where reality started, _mostly_ , so it took me a while to understand this odd state of hers. Looking at it now, I don't think my mother was purposefully oblivious to the life she was living back then. I think she was simply caught in this haze of daydreaming about how things could've been if... well, if we really were a regular, happy family.

Her wakeup call... oh damn, I was going to jump the gun again. Let's just say her battery recharge happened when I was in trouble and then later on, every time she got close to giving up, I brought more shit upon myself or others did and she'd spark back up to life again. I wasn't doing it on purpose, not always at least, but this remained her main source of _I need to keep going_ fuel.

When Daniella finally said 'screw it' and decided to pack her bags for good (yeah, she tried doing that a few times which she admitted to me long after it actually happened), to my outmost surprise my father was shocked. He was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. That was why I was tempted to fall into hysterical laughter upon his expression despite the dire situation I was in at the time. I mean, WAS HE SERIOUS? Though I have to admit, if I was him, I too probably would've been shocked that the final drop in the already more than full glass happened when my son married a human, an alchemist and my wife still chose him over me. Not that I would mind if such a thing happened when it came to my son. Quite the opposite, I'd applaud Declan if he made the same choice. Then again, I'd applaud him for every damn thing.

Speaking of Declan, boy did she adore him. She was obsessed with her grandchildren and they loved her back equally. At some point she even became close to Sydney and thank God for that since it would've been unbearable to live with two women who hated each other and were the most important women in my life. Well at least until my daughter came to the world 'cause, lets be real, nobody could compete with that.

Mom always stayed close by and we'd see her all the time. That was the reason why her loss affected all of us greatly. She couldn't have lived forever, but I used to wish every day that I'd get just one more to spend with her right up until there wasn't a tomorrow left. Like I said, I always kept my mother close to my heart, even more after she stood by me in the moment when I needed her the most.

Last, but not the least, Aunt Tatiana. That woman was fierce. I guess she had to be since she was the queen and all. Though I had a feeling she'd be just the same even if her position didn't require it. She was worthy of admiring, especially if you knew the real her. There were plenty of people who considered her a bitch, but then again plenty of them envied her too, so there is that. Luckily for all of you though (or perhaps unluckily if you were enjoying my overly detailed analysis of my family so far) I'm not going to talk about her any further at the moment. I have a few reasons for that, but mostly because she would be more important to mention when I tell you about another topic in the future. For now, I'd just like to state that she was one of my biggest supporters up until the day she was killed and for that I'll be eternally grateful to her. She never owed me anything, but she gave me probably even more than I deserved.

And now that I've given you all this info which you perhaps already knew or didn't even want to know, I'm going to move on to the main story here. The reason behind the diary I'm holding in my hands, the thing that got my mother to snap out of it and my father to decide he was never going to be able to make something out of me or mold me into what he thought I should be.

See, one of the worst things that can happen to a teenager whose parents pay little attention to what he's doing with his time, is to give him money. Lots of money. Way more than he needs. Because that said teenager, especially if exposed to the influence of other teenagers who are just like him, can get into a lot of trouble because of it.

A fifteen year-old Adrian Ivashkov was suffering from, for the lack of better knowledge, ADHD. Yeah, you guessed it. It was actually the Spirit acting out for the first time, but naturally that never crossed anyone's mind back then, mine included. He also kind of had problems with insomnia. Maybe not the right way to call it since again it was Spirit related, but though falling asleep wasn't too terrible, staying asleep proved to be hard as fuck. Mostly because I had vivid dreams and when I say vivid, I mean VIVID! Anyhow, I promise, we'll explore the whole Spirit shenanigans more later on.

So, keeping the previously mentioned thing in mind, the same spoiled little fucker spat out enough of his parents money to bribe a nurse (a mighty hot nurse I might add) to get him a prescription from the doctor for sleeping pills. And so he'd take those whenever he couldn't get his mind to stay normal long enough to be inactive for more than three hours. It became a habit, a really, really bad habit.

It was early summer, the end of the school-year and the beginning of ' _you are so lazy and dumb you can't even keep your grades up_ ' talks from my father which inevitably resulted in his fights with my mother. Three straight days of screaming around the house while playing all nice and perfect for the rest of the world and I had had enough of it. I snuck out with my friends that lived in Court hoping they'd help me take my mind off things. Somebody brought some expensive whiskey they'd stolen from their parent's liquor cabinet, I charmed my way to a bottle of wine from the local store and a shit-ton of beer appeared seemingly out of thin air.

Naturally, since we were irresponsible and inexperienced kids, we got so wasted we could barely walk, so when I got home I was surprised I didn't wake up the goldfish in the aquarium too. I didn't know if my parents didn't care that I was out or simply didn't dwell on it too much, but I still managed to get to my room without anyone bothering me. All I wanted to do was to sleep, but it didn't happen. So what did my drunken idiotic ass do? Came up with the best solution ever — take a sleeping pill like always. You know what, take two. Oh and while you're at it forget to throw away or hide the empty bottle that was left after months of using it, because you're too hazy from the mix of whiskey and wine coupled with beer (since the first two weren't enough) to think straight.

And this is what happened in the morning. I got hit so hard by the mix of alcohol and pills that I wasn't only sleeping, I became deaf too. Seriously, World War 3 could've been happening outside and I wouldn't have heard it. So when my mother called me for like a bazillion times, knocked on my door for five minutes and then finally decided to enter my room, what did she see? Oh, nothing, just her precious son completely out of it with the empty bottle of meds carelessly standing on the nightstand. And what was the first thing that crossed her mind? He drank the whole thing in one go and—. _Hit the panic button here!_

An ambulance ride and a few doctors later, I was still trying and failing to explain to everyone that I had no intentions whatsoever of killing myself. Absolutely not, no, none! I was just a dumb, dumb kid, an idiot really. However, it was really difficult to talk my way out of it with the alcohol still in my system and that damn, incriminating bottle. The two aforementioned things were also the reason behind a few very unpleasant and, frankly, disgusting things I went through in the ER. Gory details aside, when everything was said and done I was placed under 24/7 monitoring by my mother who'd lost her shit over the whole event. To make things worse, my father instead of being a normal, worried parent, turned into a walking and talking nightmare. He wouldn't let me breathe from his hour-long lectures and ranting. And this was when the big disaster happened.

Remember how in the beginning I told you about how I was taught to hide my emotions, how I stored them inside my heart and soul, never quite letting go of the negativity that tended to stick around the longest? Well that marvellous habit led to a complete mental breakdown. After a full week of keeping my mouth shut and watching my mother's worried eyes while listening to my father's irritating rambling, I broke. It happened in the middle of dinner on a fine Saturday evening. The best way to describe the situation before the big boom is to say: "This is fine" meme! Go look it up! I kid you not, I was that damn dog from the web-comic, ignoring the fire around me and in me while lazily chewing on spaghetti without a pause in order to stop myself from talking back. _It's all good_ was my main moto, until it wasn't.

I can't remember what it was that my father had said exactly, I don't think it's even relevant. All I know is that he added another distasteful sentence to the pile just as I swallowed my food and the next thing I knew I started screaming my lungs out. I jumped from the table, accidentally (maybe not) pulling the tablecloth to the ground along with all of the dishes on it. I knocked over my chair... no, sorry, that's incorrect. I threw my chair across the room. I growled and cried out a string of incoherent and appalling words before I fell into complete hysteria, stepping over the shards and the remnants of our food while slamming my fists on the table frantically. I cursed at him on every language I could think of. And when I was already blue in the face I suddenly felt all of the air leaving my lungs.

Up until that point I had never truly learned what a panic attack was or how it felt to go through it. Completed with the mental breakdown... well, let's just say it wasn't fun. I fell straight on my ass since my legs decided to take a vacation and gasped while my mother jumped from the frozen position she was in while I was having a tantrum. I didn't know what my father was doing, not that I cared, because my vision started to get blurry while I fought to breathe. I couldn't move my arms, they felt too ridged and I could only imagine what my paralyzed facial expression looked like.

The epilogue of this event... it was decided that I was not well. The reason behind it was ignored or mostly dismissed as slightly more dramatic misbehaving of a teenage boy. Naturally, they sent me to a shrink, because that's easier than sitting your child down and talking to him, isn't it? In all fairness though, my state probably did require some actual professional help, but it also begged for love and care of my parents. My mother offered both, but my father had a way of erasing all of her progress with me in one swift line.

With this I close the circle, coming back to my diary. Yeah, I know, this was one long introductory. But it was needed, believe me. In the following period, right until my high school graduation I was trapped in two hours sessions, three times a week with some old fart that was my parent's friend. They wanted to keep the whole thing hushed cause, _gasp_... 'What would people think?' and so this man became the person I secretly saw more often than my own reflection in a mirror. And throughout that time a lot of things changed.

It would be very practical to use the Kübler-Ross model to explain the teenage years of Adrian Ivashkov. You know the five stages of grief or in my case _the five stages of fucked up_. Only slightly modified because the second stage - anger, well it was sort of repetitive for me, without a particular pattern. The anger came out in different ways, luckily never in the horrific one that happened on that Saturday. Also it was the state I started with as depicted in the first entry at the beginning of this long ass narration. Then in came denial.

 _Dear Someone,_

 _And by 'someone' I mean an imaginary entity I'm supposed to be "talking" to. Dr. Shrink thinks I'll feel more at ease doing this if it feels like I'm actually communicating with someone. I tried and failed to explain to him how ridiculous the very idea is. How it makes me think that I'll for sure become a head case by attempting such a pointless task. Oh, did I mention that it also brings up the question about the sanity of this man who's supposed to make me better? I'm fabulous though, so I don't really see the need for any action whatsoever. I'm 100% normal and fine. That breakdown was just a slip-up that will never repeat again. That sort of a thing happens to everyone right? So I'm good._

See, complete and utter denial. I was fabulous. I was fine. I was good. I didn't need help. What a load of crap. If Earth represented being fine and I was a satellite, I'd be circling around Neptune. Okay, maybe a closer planet, but you get the point.

Bargaining didn't last for long and it mostly happened through interactions with Dr. Shrink (yeah, I still call him by that nickname) when I tried almost every tactic to get him to fuck off. I think it's more than evident that it didn't work out.

Depression - that was the worst. To this day it's something I tend to suffer from. I had learned to deal with it in healthier ways though and since I still medicate to avoid the Spirit that sort of alleviates the lows. I was going to read some entries to you again, but I decided against it. Just thinking about that first time when this torment caught a hold of me brings a lump to my throat. So pardon me, but I think I'm going to skip this one.

The last stage, acceptance, didn't exactly happen in a typical way. Aunt Tatiana was right, I was special. The moment I accepted that, I also accepted the probability that I'd always have some problems others might not have to deal with on regular basis. It happened when I was seventeen and, as promised, now comes the part about the Spirit shenanigans.

I had an enormous crush on this girl, Megan, in my senior year. She was smoking, brutally smoking and untouchable, which only made me want her more. I was used to getting almost every girl I'd set my eyes on even back then (and I'm not ashamed to admit it), so the fact that this girl always kept turning me down made me wild with desire. Anyhow, one night I was sprawled over my bed, begging my brain to give up and go to sleep. I pinched my eyes shut and attempted to think of anything that could make me cheerful and relaxed. In hindsight, thinking about the girl who had been giving you wet dreams for weeks when you were trying to relax was probably not such a good idea. Recalling all the particularly hot curves of her body and concentrating on that image of her stuck in your memory can do funny things to you (and you know damn well what I mean by that so don't make me say it).

At some point this odd feeling spread through me, a feeling I'd at first mistaken for being extremely hot and bothered. This tingling sensation, an energy that came out of nowhere, the high alert of every cell I was made of and joy, pure and utter joy. Bright colors began dancing behind my eyelids, but when I tried to open them nothing happened. I felt like I was moving, but in the same time I was aware of the fact that I'd never left my bed. And then I was on a beach. I remembered that same beach from my previous summer vacation. Actually, I remembered that exact sight: the moonlight reflecting over the surface of the high sea, the gentle waves crashing against the shore lazily, the softest breeze that smelled of salt and seaweeds brushing against my skin. Yeah, I could smell it, just like I could feel the wet sand sticking to my bare feet and the heat that still hadn't lifted completely off the ground even though the sun was gone. It felt too real, more vivid than any dream I'd ever had so far. For a moment, I even thought I wasn't dreaming at all.

I heard a voice calling my name. It was so quiet at first I'd brushed it off as the hum of the waves and my elevated imagination. Whether this was a dream or some twisted, impossible reality I knew I was alone that night, so there was nobody there to call my name. Until the sweet voice came again and more intensely. I twirled around and saw a small silhouette moving over the beach towards me. It called my name again and I thought it must be an angel or a charming little demon. Probably the later 'cause the thoughts that crossed my mind as she approached and I took in her features were nothing short of sinful. It wasn't until she was a few feet away from me that I'd recognized her. The magnificent curves, the wavy, shoulder length caramel hair, the nut brown eyes, the pinkish lips that always seemed a bit swollen.

"Megan?", I'd asked, not believing my own eyes as they scanned over her and I became aware that this was the most underdressed state I had ever seen her in. My imagination wasn't just elevated, it was breaking all of the earthly boundaries. I couldn't have pictured that many details, everything that was revealed by the thin, sleeveless cotton shirt coupled with boyshorts that shouldn't have been allowed to look that hot on a chick.

She approached me and I could tell she was just as confused as I was. I could guess her thoughts, since they probably resembled mine. _What is going on? What am I doing here? What is he doing here? Is this real?_ The last question she actually spoke out loud and I shrugged since I was as clueless as her. I reached out and touched her cheek with my fingers. Real enough. She caught a hold of my hand and stepped closer, her dark eyes catching the spark of the reflection of the moon in the water next to us. I suddenly felt hungry, I wanted to kiss her, hold her, not let her out of my arms until this moment, whether it was an illusion or not, ended. I think I even said that to her, but I'm a bit hazy on the details since this memory never made it into my diary. I guess I was too scared to write it down, especially after I reassured myself it had actually happened.

 **Now... if there are any kids listening to this story, please go to bed or school or somewhere else. I mean it! Oh and don't come back until I'm done telling everyone about my college experience the next time I sit down to talk, because man, that story is not only not suitable for those below the legal age, but some adults should stay clear of it too.**

Where was I? Right, Megan heard my words and for the first time didn't cast away my advances. No, for some reason, probably because she thought _"it's a dream so why the hell not"_ , she kept holding my hand until she placed it on her waist and moved in close enough to be a mere breath away from me. Our lips met briefly, but it was enough to send me flying towards heaven because that's what she tasted like. An intoxicating, unearthly sweetness of the softest pair of lips I'd touched was enough to send shiver upon a shiver down my spine. She shivered too as I stepped back and looked over her body just to check if she was still there.

Her chest heaved and I didn't know if it was her own desire or that shiver that made her nipples become hard enough to have the material of her soft shirt moulding against them. I pulled her and spun her around so that her back was against my chest. She leaned into me and gasped as the lower parts of our bodies pressed together, showing her she wasn't the only one with a visible reaction to the tension building between us. My fingers wandered over her cleavage and brushed over the two peeks on her shirt as I gently kissed my way from her shoulder to her earlobe. She melted into me even more when my palm ghosted over her stomach just below the navel while I trailed the line of the waistband of her panties. When I found my way under the waistband she grabbed my hand and tugged it away. I felt a pang of disappointment, but she didn't give me a lot of time to give into it since she turned and crashed her lips against mine. Unlike our first kiss this one was heated, a battle of lips, tongues and teeth. She almost ripped my shirt when she pulled it up and over my head and I actually did rip hers when I attempted the same. I distinctly recall we were laying on the sand at some point, both butt naked, wrapped around each other like vines. Fond memories aside, let me tell you right now in case you never had the pleasure of this experience, having sex on the beach sucks. It's uncomfortable, sticky and the sand gets in all the wrong places. But to a young lad such as myself, that was completely irrelevant.

It was when I was buried deep inside Megan that I came to the conclusion this couldn't possibly be a dream. Nope, this was real, because man it felt divine. Even if my imagination was worthy of an Oscar I couldn't have come up with this. Not the scene, I pictured it plenty, but the feeling. The heat, tightness and wetness that I thrust into, the sting of her nails slicing my back as she dragged them across it, the tickle of her breath as she moaned into my ear. And once I found myself chasing my release I felt like the ground underneath us began shaking. It took me awhile to realize that it actually was.

The world broke into a million pieces, like shattered glass. The colors faded and got replaced by darkness. The joy, the excitement, the thrill it all disappeared and I felt like I was falling through emptiness. And then I set up straight in my bed and felt a wave of cold sweat washing over me. My heart was beating out of my chest and my hands shook. I thought I might faint, but after what felt like hours my breathing slowed and I managed to get up and reach the bathroom. I splashed water on my face and leaned against the sink waiting for my skin to dry off on its own. I must have still been in a half lucid state since I could swear I saw sparks of gold dancing across the green of my eyes when I looked up into the mirror and that odd mix of colors I sometimes saw right above people's heads now twirling above mine, a golden streak also spreading through it. I blinked and blinked until it was gone.

I would've covered this event up like I tended to do. I'd tell myself it never happened until I believed my own lie. I'd ignore it, just like I'd ignored what I didn't know to be auras back then, or other vivid dreams I had. However, by some weird twist of fate somebody thought of a brilliant idea to take our entire class to the pool. Yeah, I know, what were the chances? And it was when we were at the pool that I first saw Megan after my dream of her and when I first saw her in a bikini. Oh, did I mention I almost drowned when I noticed the tiny oval shaped birthmark edging her groin, right on the rim of her baiting suit, the same mark that I'd kissed a few times while I was getting hot and heavy with her in... so, it wasn't a dream after all. BUT WHAT THE HELL WAS IT THEN?

Eventually, all of this ladies and gentleman was what got me to come to grips with the fact that I had capabilities others didn't. Naturally, it took me a long time to realize what exactly those capabilities were and to name them. I had so much to learn and a few people to learn from. And... my God, look at the time. I should be in bed. I have to work tomorrow. Oh well, you probably got tired too anyway, I've been talking for a long time. I guess this is a goodbye for now then. I wish you sweet dreams or a good day depending on which time zone you're in. Hopefully, you'll be back to hear the rest of my story. Ta-ta!

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 **Anyone who's been following my stories so far might have noticed that I'm in love with music almost as much as writing. This is the reason why I decided to list 10 songs at the end of each chapter in order to form my Ultimate Adrian Ivashkov playlist! The songs won't necessarily be connected to the topics of the chapters (some will), but will all be connected to Adrian through their lyrics! Hope you look them up and enjoy them!**

 **This chapters songs: 1. Twisted - Missio 2. Gasoline - Halsey 3.** **Imperfection - Skillet 4.** **Dressed To Digress - Boy Crisis 5.** **Flat On The Floor - Nickelback 6.** **Imaginary ("Origin" Version) - Evanescence 7.** **Just Like You - Three Days Grace 8.** **Lurk - The Neighbourhood 9.** **Iodine - Icon For Hire 10.** **Unsteady - X Ambassadors**

 **Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed! Leave a review and let me know what you think! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Until the next time,**

 **Kisses T!**


	2. CH2 - Who said Uni wasn't FUN?

You came back? Splendid! I didn't expect to get an audience again, but it looks like my narrative skills and life story aren't such a bore after all. I'm sure all of you are dying to hear what I'll be talking about today and I won't keep you in suspense, because I'm a kind person *wink*, so here comes the story about my college days. Uni take one...action!

I say take one since I started it two times. Finishing it took me a while though. I think one of my biggest mistakes when it came to seeking out higher education was that the education was not the point. The only reason I even applied for college the first time around was because I wanted to get away. Get away from my father, from the chaotic state of things in my household, from my shrink, from the people who bored me and did nothing but judge me and talk behind my back, from the fact that I remained unspecialized and from all the weird shit I'd lived through while at Court. The second time around it started off as something I did to keep my mind off things, something that would help me pass the time quicker. I can't really remember at which point I'd decided I should take it more seriously, but it was the exact same point when I actually started enjoying it.

My mom was proud when I enrolled, bless her pure soul. My father however, as much as I hate to admit it, saw right through the bull. He knew the truth and the truth was that he was about to spend money on my play pretend schooling. Luckily, he wanted me out of his house almost as much as I did, so he too played along. Not without bitching about it though.

The choice of the university was tough. Mostly because if there was a university set up on Antarctica I'd probably go there and it still wouldn't have been enough of a distance between my life at Court and me. However, my mom begged me to stay close to home up until the moment I couldn't bear to look at her saddened expression and I caved in. But I was going to live on campus and there were no compromises on it. It was the middle ground she could live with.

This was when the larger issue arose in the form of no other than the thick-browed, grey-haired, looking at you over my rim of my glasses while I judge your adolescent ass man who I've introduced as Dr. Shrink. I was adamant about ending my sessions with him, but that didn't exactly agree with my father. And this was the moment when my great-aunt Tatiana came to my rescue. She offered to take the role of the person that'd be in charge of my mental health. My father argued against it, naturally. I think he said something between the lines of _'I'm sure you have better things to do than deal with his childish behaviour',_ but she wouldn't take no for an answer. So Dr. Shrink was replaced by my great-aunt (and great didn't just simply stand for her relation to me). I still kept the diary though. I know, unbelievable, but it kind of grew on me.

I'd see my aunt over the weekends, mostly on late Sunday afternoons. We'd drink tea or something stronger, depending on how much I partied the previous night. We'd smoke cigarettes in the throne room (yeah I began smoking near the end of high school) and one time I even got her to try weed. Man that was hilarious. Especially after she shocked me by admitting _trying_ was not the adequate word. We talked about a lot of things, even about some I didn't want to share with anyone. And the rest, the events that wouldn't be appropriate to retell, I wrote in my diary or stored in my memory, though there was little I couldn't share with this amazing woman.

She called me _her little artist_ since I'd decided to major in art. I always kind of had a thing for it truth to be told. I played with crayons when I was a kid so much my mom sometimes couldn't wash them off me for days. I used to draw sketches on the margins of my books in school when I got bored during lessons. And, since my aunt intuitively sensed my artistic inclinations, she bought me a collection of expensive paints when I was seventeen and I'd put them to use every time I needed an escape (which was often). All of this led me to believe that maybe someday that could be more than a hobby for me. My aunt fully supported me. She fully supported almost every decision I made, even when that decision was to drop out.

All in all, going back to the topic at hand, college was an experimental time for me. I hadn't really shied away from certain adventures even in high school, but this was on a whole other level. Since the moment I'd set a foot on the campus I hadn't stopped partying and man, college students knew how to party. And parties were where all the debauchery happened. Naturally, I'd go wherever the majority went, whether it was a bar, a club or a fraternity.

Was I a part of a fraternity? Hell, yeah I was. What kind of a question is that? I'm not going to name it, but let's just say their slogan called to me. I liked the idea that every member was something or could become something, which is a hint enough if you're a smart little bee and you do your research. Their colors drew me too. I didn't know why at the time, but later I realized that the blue and the gold of their crest resembled the colors that danced through my aura.

 **Now, remember how I told you kids not to come back until I finish talking about college... well, it's time for those of you who were insubordinate to beat it. Do you hear me? Okay, fine, but don't say I didn't warn you.**

The people I became friendly with were partiers too, sometimes even wilder than me and at that age I was hard to top. Hanging out with them I had the opportunity to indulge in many things: alcohol, drugs and sex. A real rock 'n' roll ride. The first one you're familiar with if you know anything about me. It wasn't something I was new to and it wasn't something I ever quit. The second one, to this day, stayed a part of this period alone (well that is if you don't count the meds I'm talking to keep the Spirit at bay).

I tried a few things, some I liked, some not so much. Most of them didn't really go well with my already distorted mind. Sure, they made me feel powerful while I was on them, but the aftermath was almost always chaotic. It was all fun and games when you feel that sharp, tingling sensation of happiness running through your nose, above your temples and then deep under the skin around your ears straight into your brain. Oh yeah, it's good when it sends you to a high. But when you come down and then sink into the depths of hell, that's when you realize it was so not worth it. And sure, a good trip from the pill under your tongue could get you places, but you never knew when a bad one could hit. For me, the bad ones were really, really bad.

Weed was okay, mostly. It was my usual choice when offered several. I'd reacted to it differently almost every time. I think it was related to Spirit or the amount I had. Maybe something else entirely, it beats me. The thing I enjoyed about it the most — time. Time warped into a completely different dimension. It could've been a second or an eternity when you're splayed over the floor staring at the ceiling, revelling in the state this plant had put you in. It moved so slow you'd feel like you'd stay young forever. I loved how my body relaxed and my mind awoke. It ticked in a different way than it normally would, in a deeper way. I could think about the purpose of the fly twirling around my room or the theory of the universe itself. I'd often get crazy inspired. No really, some of my best work was created when I was holding a joint in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. And it rose my appetite for anything digestible, blood included. I couldn't really describe the heightened taste of blood dripping down your throat in what felt like slow motion even if I tried. And I did try, see:

 _For the first time in my life I felt like I could never get enough. Sure, restraining yourself when you feel the warm heavenly nectar that not only keeps you alive, but makes life pulse through your body, is hard on any given day. But in a moment when you're crazed with need, when you're like a man who had returned from a desert and all he can think about is a cold, fresh glass of water, in that moment you don't want to stop. You can't think about the consequences, about what's right, you can only think about the divine taste of every single drop that passes your lips. They move so slow down your throat you find yourself savoring every inch they pass and your focus moves to them and them alone. Until you're one. You're the drop and the drop is you_ —.

Okay, I might have been a bit high when I was writing this too, but you get the point. Sadly, now that I'm a responsible adult and a father of two, I'll have to conclude this part of the story by saying: KIDS, DON'T DO DRUGS! Of any kind! No matter how fun they are or seem to be! Sure, I had my fun with them and sure I can't think of a bad side effect of weed when used occasionally but, BUT there's a reason why I left them all behind. Running away from reality, dulling out the things you don't want to feel, jumping out of your skin and temporarily putting on a new one can only get you so far. It's not a solution, not a lasting one anyway.

Next up: sex. It's always the answer, isn't it Nickelback? It's no secret I enjoy it very much and like most things in life I'm not really shy about it and during it. This is the thing for which I'll say: DO IT ALL YOU WANT KIDS, just as long as you're being safe in every sense of it. Okay, 'kids' was probably not a good term to use. Teenagers? Young adults? Whatever, you get the point!

Now, I popped my cherry before I reached Uni and I knew how to do the deed well enough, but I still had much to learn and there was no better place than the one where you're surrounded by sorority chicks. Mmmm... damn, I hope Sydney didn't hear me mentioning them. She's in the kitchen, I think.

Oh but chicks weren't the only game in town. What can I say, I'm a man of various tastes and I enjoy pleasures of all types, shapes, colors, flavors or well, in this case, genders. I prefer girls, that's no secret, but that doesn't make them exclusive. For me it's more about the soul and the connection than the body (not that I mind a hot one). I guess I was simply destined to meet more chicks I was drawn to mentally throughout my life than dudes. Maybe if I made other choices things would've turned out differently.

Anyhow, after hitting a solid two digit number plus, to my utmost surprise and delight, a threesome with the lovely ladies from my Uni and neighborhood, I thought there was nothing left for me to experience as completely new. Though, sex does always feel like a new experience when you change your partner and, as you can see, I changed them quite often. But boy was I in for a surprise.

As usual, on a Friday night, I was painting the town red with my college friends up at this insane club we'd managed to get into yet again with our fake ID's and my _charm_. I was so deep into the bottle I didn't even need the flashing lights and the deafening music to feel like I was on a roller-coaster which made me sick and filled me with joy at the same time. I was dancing, yep, dancing like there was no tomorrow while the atmosphere and the alcohol I had consumed made my blood hot. I can't remember what I was drinking, but whatever it was — it made me horny.

I remember there was this girl I was more than inappropriately dancing with at some point and I remember a guy approached her and joined the fun. She danced between us for a while. No, actually, she rubbed against us until I could hardly keep my thoughts at bay (something else at bay as well). And then she slipped away and threw her arms around the fella she'd introduced as her best friend. From the way they proceeded to touch and kiss, I'd say they were more than friends. I was left with the guy alone, so I figured I should stop moving and perhaps go get another drink. That was until he stepped closer and pulled me towards him. He had a hard grip, unsurprisingly since he was built like a Viking. He was a Dhampir, one of the rare ones around that place. He had piercing grey eyes, almost silver, but even if it wasn't for their mesmerizing color he still would've stuck me to my spot just by the intensity of his gaze. He was handsome and that's an understatement. When he pressed closer to me my first instinct was to pull back. The second instinct won though, so I relaxed in his hold and allowed him to lean in.

"You want to get out of here?", he mumbled into my ear. And you know what? I said: fuck it, let's go. I didn't even pause to think. Tension had already built up in me plenty from the dancing and I need an outlet. Plus, there was something about this guy that had me feeling like I'd say yes to whatever he suggested.

I was a bit fuzzy, so I don't really remember all of the details of how we got out of the club and to his apartment which was a few blocks away from my campus. I just remember we were in a cab at some point and that his hand slid up and down my thigh leisurely, making my mind beg the driver to hurry the hell up. When we tumbled into his apartment he slammed the door behind us with his foot and gripped my shirt and coat with his hands, bunching the material up so much I thought he was going to rip it in half, before he slammed his lips against mine. I was distinctly aware of the fact that he used his hold on me to lead me in what I figured was the direction of his bed. The funny thing was that he was doing exactly what I had done a million times before. Okay, maybe a little rougher (not that I mind roughness when it came to this sort of activity). It actually felt strangely satisfying to be the one that was led rather than being the leader.

Being with a guy felt different that's for sure. I mean, the mechanics were pretty much the same: kissing, touching and the rest of the fun stuff. It just felt odd to feel firm, flat chest and abs, statue of a god worthy abs, under my hands. The usual soft gasps were replaced by heavier grunts that, at some moments, I couldn't pinpoint which one of us let out. It was strange to feel the bulge in his jeans pressing against my thigh as our legs tangled from the haste of our movements. Different, odd, strange are the words that I'd used so far, but in the same time it felt like the most right, wonderful and thrilling thing in the world. It was just proof that different doesn't mean bad. In this case - different was very, very good.

We disposed of our clothes in frenzy, the only material still left being our boxers, before he kneeled between my legs and his eyes raked over me. Those eyes could really take you places. He had this little satisfied smirk, like he was more than pleased by what he saw. And if I tell you I felt like a kid who still hadn't hit puberty compared to his physic, you can only imagine how pleased I was.

"I was really hoping you wouldn't say no", he chuckled, running his hand over my stomach, "I've been wanting to find out what hides behind those fancy clothes all night."

I think I thought to myself something like 'pull your shit together', but I was still incapable of responding. Instead, I used the only language I could think off at that point. I sat up and kissed him, pulling his bottom lip with my teeth in an invitation. He understood it, the hand that was ghosting over my stomach now slipping lower. I let my head fall back a little while I squeezed my eyes shut. He used my new position to find my pulse point, his lips touching it gently at first before he sucked on it. He nudged me back into the pillows and lay on top of me as I latched onto his strong biceps.

"You want to be on top?", he breathed out into my ear and, for a mere second, I froze. I was, for the very first time after losing my virginity, the less experienced one in the situation. Like I said the mechanics were the same, but that didn't stop me from feeling like a total rookie.

He must have felt my hesitation since he stopped what he was doing and pulled back to look at me. And again I was lost in the depths of those shiny, silver orbs. For the first time since our bodies connected he did something so unexpectedly gentle that, for a second, I thought I had imagined it. His hand sneaked up to my neck and his thumb slid across my jawline.

"Don't tell me—", he begun saying, but I cut in with a wordless nod.

"Damn, I never would have guessed from your moves so far."

"The moves are well practices, but the body is a bit new", I chuckled and that brought a grin to his face.

He propped himself on his elbow, taking some of his weight off me. His hand ran down my chest again and I shivered when he approached his target. He rubbed his palm against me and I breathed out loudly. He was still looking at me when he spoke again: "How about we do something else for now?"

And that sentence was what resulted in one of the best blowjobs yours truly had ever received. Yep, the guy seriously knew his shit, not that I was surprised. All of the insecurities I had vanished somewhere along the way and that night turned into one very long moan-filled parade. When we were both spent, we lay on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. We talked, a lot. About random things really. And it felt good, everything felt good with him. So I saw him again.

 _Dear Someone,_

 _I actually finally passed an exam. I know, shocking, but someone went through a lot of trouble to talk me into studying and it paid off. That someone is sprawled over the bed with me_ _right now, using my thigh as a pillow and he would be laughing his ass off if he could see what I'm scrabbling in here. Luckily, he doesn't push his nose where it doesn't belong and right now he is sleeping. I hadn't mentioned him before because... well, I didn't know he was going to stick around or become important to me. But he did both of those things._

 _Theo is unlike anyone I've ever met. I'll admit, I'm not an easy person to deal with, but somehow he manages it extraordinarily. He is an amazing friend. And yes I said friend and yes we do have more than friendly benefits sometimes… okay a lot of the time, but it's not about that. It's about having someone to talk to or be completely silent with and_ _feel entirely comfortable just like that, alone in our thoughts, but together in a room. His room mostly since sneaking him onto the campus proved to be harder than I thought._

 _We both agreed on the fact that we're not relationship material, but at the same time we kind of silently vowed not to bring others to our beds either. A little flirting, sometimes slightly more than that is alright with the both of us, but if I'm being honest I don't think either of us needs more since we've already covered our needs together._

 _Oh, I think he's waking up now… gotta go!_

Yeah, Theo and I saw each other for a while. He became the person I spent most of my time with. He took it upon himself to get me to actually attend classes and put in some efforts. He claimed it was because he believed in my potential. At the time I thought he was even crazier than me, but it still felt good to have someone supporting you in such a way. Especially since no one but my aunt had done it in the past.

Sadly, Theo had to move away after a while. The only reason he was in town when we'd met was because he was working there, a mundane job. He never wanted to be a guardian and I understood that one hundred percent. Who'd want to throw their entire life away for someone else's? When he got a promotion (cause he is a hardworking and dedicated guy if you haven't picked that up already), it meant he had to pack up his bags and move to California. I was happy for him and trying not to show how devastated I really felt about his departure. He figured it out of course, he knew me well after all. He made sure to cheer me up as much as he could the last few nights we'd spent together (yes, the benefits played a large part in that). We kept in touch. I even visited him a few times in the following years. Last I heard he got married and adopted no less than three kids. I had no doubt he'd make an amazing father, he was a very carrying and loving soul.

Theo was the first, but not the only guy I'd been with over the course of my life. He was, however, the most significant one. After he left, I stayed clear of all sexual activities for a little while, probably because my subconscious wanted to "pay respect" to what we had. That was until I met Katrine. You know, I read somewhere her name means 'pure', like virgin purity. That wasn't my Kat though. Oh no, she was a little rascal! And she brought out the devil in me.

Kat was a Moroi, but was built more like a Dhampir. Moroi don't have curves like that, period. Her body reminded me of Megan's and, as you might recall, I did mention Megan had a heavenly one. Kat had some Asian roots which was evident in the slight curve of her beautiful gold-brown eyes, her dark almost black hair which was always loose and straightened up and the lack of paleness to her skin. She was drop-dead gorgeous and she knew it. She wore her confidence for everyone to see and was the furthest from a shy person one could get.

Kat and I met by mere accident. One of my friends, Hanna, was going out with some girl and asked me to tag along to make the atmosphere more chill. When she mentioned her date was bringing her super-hot and very straight friend along I had no choice but to succumb to this enormous sacrifice. What can I say, I'm a good guy that's always willing to save damsels in distress. Also I'd been abstaining for a while at that point so I was hoping to score some… khm, alright I'll shut up now.

Anyhow, we went to a bar and I, per Hanna's request, behaved and ordered a non-alcoholic drink, storing my fake ID and enchanting smiles away. Kat had no such problems apparently, since she charmed her way to a huge cocktail at the bar without anyone even asking for an ID from her. And when I said charmed her way, I meant pushed her cleavage into the bartender's nose until he probably couldn't remember his own name. According to Hanna everything went downhill from there, but she was under the influence of the worst hangover when those words were uttered. She was also still recovering from her walk of shame after being caught by her date's mother when she was sneaking out with half of her clothes missing since they got _misplaced_ in what I'm guessing was a race to dispose of them. But at least she got some… okay, definitely stopping, again.

And what happened to me? I'm glad you asked! Ten cocktails down the road and I found myself piggybacking Kat into my dorm. She was way drunker than me, not that I was even close to sober, so as much as I wanted to see some action I'd decided I should put her to sleep. She protested, but it didn't take her long to pass out once I tucked her in. I was determined to be a perfect gentleman, but I was also under no circumstances sleeping on the floor thus I winded up sleeping beside her. And you know what I woke up to? Her lips wrapped around my morning wood. That ladies and gentlemen is definitely a hell of a way to wake up.

Since she was very much sober and very wiling on that fine morning we stayed in my bed for hours. I didn't even know I had such a strong stamina. And she kept testing my stamina for a while after that, though the length of my endurance wasn't her only interest. Oh no, she wanted to test all of my limits and I had close to none. She was the kinkiest girl I'd ever been with and I'd bedded some very _liberal_ girls.

A bit of S&M, a bit of explicit public displays, a bit of recording (and no I don't have those records anymore you pervs) and I was almost convinced she could no longer surprise me. I probably should've learned by then thinking that you can't be surprised is like an open and loud invitation for the universe to throw everything it has at you. And the universe really outdid itself this time.

During one of our late-night rendezvous, right when we passed the point of neediness and slipped into a full-blown frenzy, Kat came up with a fresh idea. At such a moment I'd say yes to Satan if he asked to occupy my vessel let alone say yes to whatever she desired.

She whispered against my lips to stay put and keep my eyes shut and I obediently obliged. I felt her weight disappear from the bed and when she climbed back and straddled me, torturously rubbing her satin panties against my exposed sensitive parts, she dropped something on the mattress that made a clinking noise. The sound was familiar and I shivered in anticipation as she led one of my arms up to the bedpost, clasping the cold handcuff around my wrist. She repeated the same with my other arm and then tugged on the cuffs to make sure they were set tight. I opened my eyes in time to see her settling between my legs and taking me into her mouth. A hiss escaped me while she expertly twirled her tongue down my length. Her head bobbed a few times before she pulled back and smiled at me.

"Have you ever felt the endorphin's high?", she asked while she lazily stroked me, keeping me in the mood, but not allowing me to build up too much.

"Maybe", I shot back, wiggling my eyebrows.

"Yes?"

She squeezed her hand around me bringing me to the thin line between pain and pleasure. Her eyes fixed on me with a challenging look in them along with that mischievous spark that was always in her.

"Or no?"

I shook my head wordlessly before her grip loosened and I breathed in again. It was true, I'd never felt that infamous high. I'd bitten people during sex before, giving into that sinful taboo activity more times then I'd like to admit. I enjoyed it. No, enjoying isn't even close to being a strong enough word for it. Drinking straight from the source was always my guilty pleasure, but doing it while... man nothing compares to that. But until this point I had never truly thought about the pleasure the other person drew from it despite being well aware of it. I guess I was too lost in my own bliss to ponder on it.

"Let me show you."

With that Kat's lips landed on the lowest point of my stomach and her tongue teasingly came out to play, gliding over my abs, my chest and up to my collarbone. She moved mind-blowingly slow so I found myself curling my hands into fists in an attempt to resist the urge to move and make her hurry it up. She kissed my neck and then sucked my skin into her mouth, marking the perfect spot. Her hand sneaked down between us and she positioned me so I slid deep into her when she sat down. A gasp of relief escaped me upon that heavenly moment of first penetration. There is nothing like it, truly — the longing, the maddening desire and need, then finally the tight warmth that wraps around you like a blanket.

She rolled her hips and leaned back towards my neck, licking the hickey she made on it previously. I felt my blood pulsing through it and I was sure my skin was already turning purplish there. She teased me with occasional nips and licks, but she did nothing that would indicate she was actually going to go through with it. She kept riding me until I was growling pleas, begging for a release though I knew she'd never give it to me until she decided it was time. I knew Kat well and she was a master of sweet torture. Just as she'd bring me to the edge she'd slow the pace or stop moving completely, until I was incoherent and completely surrendered to her mercy.

Once she allowed me to near nirvana one last time she leaned back down and nipped my earlobe while whispering: "Now you get to fall over the edge."

And then she moved back to my neck and at last I felt the sharp sting as she pierced her target, her fangs sinking into me and their venom flowing into my bloodstream. I was distinctly aware of the handcuffs digging into my skin as I tugged my arms up and that was possibly the only thing keeping me from floating away, the only thing grounding me and making me stay a part of reality. But the feeling inside my body and mind — no drink or drug could ever, EVER send you to such heights. It was divine! I never wanted it to stop, I wanted to be lost forever in that haze of joy. There was no pain, no discomfort, no fear, just pure and utter bliss.

I'm pretty certain I erupted like a volcano inside of Kat, but I was unaware of anything outside of her fangs in my vein. When she pulled back I felt like somebody took all air out of my lungs, like they ripped away a part of my soul. I think I cried out for her to come back and keep going or maybe I prayed for it inside my head. My eyelids felt heavy, but I somehow pried them open when she leaned over me and freed my hands. I reached up and cuddled her cheek as soon as I could, seeing a grin spread over her lips that were still flecked with blood. _My blood_.

"Easy darling! We're treading on a thin line between passion and murder", she teased as she climbed off me and lay beside me, leaning her head against my shoulder and dragging her fingertips slowly against my heaving chest.

"I like that line", I mumbled sleepily, giving into my body's desires to shut down completely.

"I knew you would", was the last thing she said before sleep took a hold of me.

The hickey remained on my neck for a few days and the bite-mark longer since it got refreshed over and over again. It all resulted in a weird period of my fashion life when a silk scarf became my everyday accessory. Not that I was ashamed of those love bites gracing my neck, but they would've been hard to explain to my mundane friends.

Bless Kat she discovered a new universe for me. The only downside... I became addicted and in my books that means trouble. So I wasn't surprised when everything slowly started going to shit 'cause, lets be real, trying to maintain any attendance at Uni when you're either drunk, high from drugs or high from endorphins is impossible. Don't even get me started on my exams. Also right around this time my depression started acting up. It might have been triggered by the extreme highs and lows that kept shaking my mind on daily bases or by the mix of everything I was due to deal with but was too sedated to care about. The eruption of the problems I'd swept under the rug once I left Court was bound to happen.

I'll fast-forward this since, honestly, my mouth is already dry from all of the talking today already, but eventually I couldn't run from my fears anymore and, once I stopped and face them head-on, they consumed all of my time and energy. I dropped out of college soon after and I never saw Kat again. Not that either of us was really shaken by that. We had an extremely functional and entertaining fuck-only relationship which we were both cool with.

And what problems and fears am I talking about exactly? Oh, well, looks like you'll have to come back and see. I'll give you a little tease though. They mostly have to do with that little magical part of me, that special little element that gave me a lot of lemons through my life, but not many chances to make lemonade. However, the Spirit did make it up to me. It gave me something that trumps all of the bad and the darkness. It brought me people who became my friends, my family which is why it deserves a lot of mentions through my story. I just hope it doesn't bore you. A man can dream, right?

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 **This was a steamy one, wasn't it? I hope you guys enjoyed it! I did my best to explore into a lot of topics that I considered relevant to Adrian's experience as a young lad hahaha!**

 **This chapters songs: 1.** **Bloodstream - Ed Sheeran 2.** **Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd 3.** **My Medicine - The Pretty Reckless 4.** **Sedated - Hozier 5.** **Ways To Get High - Pop Evil 6.** **Cocaine - Eric Clapton 7.** **Fluorescent Adolescent - Arctic Monkeys 8.** **Something For The Pain - Redlight King 9.** **Drunk - Ed Sheeran 10.** **Medicine - Daughter (P.S. The "sexy" songs are missing from this chapter cause they went into the song lists of some other chapters. Also, as I said before, not all songs relate to the topics at hand though the ones listed here kind of do ;) )!**

 **Thank you all for reading! Hope you liked the chapter! Review, review, review and let me know what you think that way! Until the next time,**

 **Kisses T!**


	3. CH3 - Hi, I'm Adrian, your Stalker

**Even though I've already put up a warning at the beginning of this story that many chapters will contain very explicit and touchy subjects, I'd like to once more warn you that this chapter in particular could be VERY triggering to some. If you have a problem reading about depression and suicide, please skip this one! If not, prepare tissues and carry on!**

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I used to be friends with Ezekiel Zeklos. Everybody called him Zeke.

Zeke wasn't a partier, a drinker or one of the popular kids. No, he was a geek, a smartass... a DILIGENT smartass who, somehow, still managed to stay cool just by being so fucking extraordinary. His grades were remarkable. He was nine years old when he could already almost completely control his element — Fire. He even kicked ass in basketball which was something he took up only as a hobby. His accomplishments were quite impressive and also quite pressuring for me.

See, Zeke's parents and mine were friendly, since their kids did basically grow up together, so that meant a lot of: Zeke did this and that and _"Adrian, you should be more like Zeke"._ But, Adrian couldn't be like Zeke no matter how much he... well, I tried. Zeke was perfect and I was not.

Now, let me burst this crazy bubble that, admittedly, I myself had a large part in creating. I was NOT a bad student. I know, it sounds impossible between the mental breakdowns and parties, but I actually kept my grades fairly decent all the way through my years in Alder. That was why I landed in a good college afterwards. Not that it mattered since I did fuck that one up later. Still, there was this one class I was always on the brink of failing, the one I got through only because my teacher, given my high status, turned a blind eye to my lack of results — Elemental Control.

When Zeke first blew a flame out of his hand and right past my head, after some initial shock, I congratulated him and bought him a soda since he wouldn't accept beer as his prize. When he got his magic under control and the rest of our friends started leaning towards specific elements, we all joked I was bound to suck in at least one thing since this was a period when I was walking around with a different chick on my arm every other day and my friends envied me for it. Not that I did a lot more than walking when it came to most of those girls. But when we were already nearing graduation and I couldn't do more than intensely stare at the fireplace in my living room hoping I was like Zeke, shit became real. It wasn't a joke anymore, it wasn't just me being a late bloomer, it was complete and utter failure. A scandal.

My teachers were disappointed, my friends were weirded out, my parents were furious and I... I was miserable. My aunt was the only one whostood by me even when my high school diploma had UNDECLARED written over it in eye-poking bold letters. It sucked, big time. And the worst part was that I actually managed to convince myself it discover my element during college or, if I didn't, I'd just stop caring. Neither of those situations occurred.

I still remember the day I was leaving home, all packed and ready to start my life on campus. Zeke stopped by. We were still friends at that time and I actually enjoyed his company, so I welcomed him in with a big fat smile on my face. He got into some killer college on a full scholarship and he too was supposed to leave soon. We hung out in my backyard, gossiping about our former classmates and having a few laughs. And then Zeke became very serious. I couldn't figure out why his mood shifted so suddenly, but luckily he obviously had no plans to keep me in the dark for long.

"Adrian, can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing, buddy", I casually responded despite this odd feeling of foreboding.

"Do you remember when you... when you told me about those colours you sometimes see around people's heads?"

"Ah, you wanna tease me about that again? I thought you said you'd let it go", I chuckled, but in reality I felt my insides do a backflip. He was the only one of my friends I'd told about my strange experiences. I'd told him about my weird dreams, about those colours, I told him about all of those unexplainable moments I went through and never figured out.

"No, I don't want to tease you. I just—."

He seemed uncomfortable. And he also seemed scared of something, so I prompted: "What Zeke? What's on your mind?"

"Mathew", he pushed out, his face cringing like he was already regretting bringing the topic up, "Mathew told me he saw them too."

Mathew was Zeke's younger brother. Not much younger, only two years, but stuck so deep in Zeke's shadow that his age or pretty much anything else about him became irrelevant. I pitied the kid, he had big shoes to fill. What made me pity him even more was that he, on top of everything, was clearly as big of a nut-job as me.

"Well, maybe Mat drank the same amount of cognac as I did—."

"Don't joke about this", Zeke cut in, his voice so strained I thought his vocal cords might break right there and then, "He wasn't drunk. He was sitting right next to me during dinner and he looked up at me and told me he saw a mix of colours floating around my head. He named each of them and they were the same freaking ones you said you saw."

"Well that's... unusual", I mumbled, not knowing how exactly to go about this business.

"It is. It's very unusual Adrian", he stressed in a way that made me squirm in my seat, wanting to escape this conversation as fast as possible. He must have sensed my uncomfortableness since he too was quick to change the topic and leave soon after. But when Zeke left, all I could think about was Mathew and I thought about him for a while. Of course, when I arrived to college most of those deep thoughts and ponderings left my brain to make room for a steady buzz of whatever I was on.

One of the things I was partially right about was that, for a while, college made me forget all about my lack of powers as well. But when the endless ride of drugs and alcohol turned out to have an end after all, well that was the moment I began thinking about it again. I felt those familiar dark thoughts creeping up to me and I wanted to escape them, FAST. Luckily, that was the time I was hit by a hurricane named Kat and all was well again. I already told you all about how crazy Kat was, but I hadn't mentioned one particularly insane thing she did to me. My endorphin addiction, the border I crossed with her, was something I spoke of, but as I pointed out that wasn't the only border and the only experiment she pulled me towards. No, she had many twisted ideas in that little head of hers.

I remember this one night when I was already high as a kite and she was telling me about a way to enhance endorphins that my own system was already producing by... well, I didn't really hear by what since I was catching every other word. She asked if I was up for it and I said why not. Next thing I knew, all the air from my lungs vanished and Kat leaned over me, her curious eyes studying my face as I fought to breathe. She was an Air User, so I guess I shouldn't have been all that shocked when I found myself unable to inhale even though there were no hands around my neck. Her hands were around some other part of me at. When her magic loosened its hold and I felt a rush of breath surging into my lungs, for a moment, I was exhilarated. And then panic struck.

I was no stranger to choking during sex. Hell, Theo had a hell of a grip and man I didn't even need drugs to feel like I was surging towards the sky. I'd done the deed myself with some other partners. But this wasn't about the act itself. It was about magic. It was about the fact that I ran away from any reminders of Moroi powers when I entered college. I chose the perfect crowd: human, Dhampir or Moroi intoxicated enough to be cut from any source of power. This, Kat, was the first person to display here abilities around me. And it was a stab right in my heart, a cold shower reminding me of what I kept running from.

That night Kat chased after me as I tumbled out of her place half naked and completely distraught. She didn't catch up, but at least I found my clothes falling from her window right on top of my head before I got the hell out of dodge. I don't think I had ever run as fast and as long as I did that night. If I had the lungs for it, I probably would've crossed state borders at some point. Instead, I was satisfied by getting to my dorm and locking myself up in my room and away from the world.

And then hell opened up and swallowed me whole.

It wasn't long before I was standing in the administration office, dropping out of college. I didn't want to go home, but I didn't want to stay in this town either. I just wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere new, away. I pulled the money intended for my tuition from my account and left. I barely stuck around long enough to say goodbye to a few people I was friends with and Kat, whatever she was to me. I hopped on a bus and didn't even stop to ask where it was going.

Three days later I was stuck in a hotel room God knows where, surrounded by empty bottles and filled ashtrays. I chugged down any pills I could get my hands on and I could get my hands on plenty of them between my old prescriptions and a bit of charm. Why was I doing all of this, you asked? Well, I told you already... you can't run from your problems forever. Also, what I found out later, you can't run from Spirit's darkness indefinitely. All of the things I'd been pushing under the rug came flying out in a cloud of dust so big it felt like a tornado repeatedly hitting me with full strength. What happened in the end? I hit rock-bottom.

Now, here is the thing — depression is a BITCH (yes in all capital letters)! I don't know what's worse, the state it leaves you in or the useless attempts at explanations when people ask you about it. _'No, it's not something you did. I'm sorry, I just don't feel like hanging out'_ , _'Yes, I really am tired and sleepy all the time'_ , _'No, I'm really, really not hungry'_ , _'Sure, I do have a lot of things to be happy about. Problems? No, I don't have any at the moment'._ I always hated everyone's attitude towards it and everyone, in this case, were all of those lucky bastards that never had to deal with it. They had this twisted view of depression, writing it off as bad mood or a momentary thing. They considered themselves to be rightful judges on who should have the privilege to be depressed and I was always undeserving of that privilege in their eyes. Why? Cause I was handsome, rich as fuck and had no visible problems unlike some poor souls who had a lot less fortune in their lives than me.

Also, one of the most dangerous things about depression is that you never know when it'll hit and just how hard it will wreck you that time around. For a guy treading on the line of the big two in front of a zero that represented his age, it was terrifying to find out it could get worse than it had so far. Much, much worse.

 _Dear Someone,_

 _I wish I could give you a face and a name. I wish you were real, shaped to my liking. Not because I'm a perfectionist, far from it, but because maybe then I'd have someone to understand me, someone to share my pain. This way, I'm just bleeding onto these pristine pages and all I get is a never-ending silence in return._

Yes, you did guess what that smudge on the bottom of the page is. I meant the bleeding part quite literally. And this part, this last part of the entry, it's one of the things I didn't want to show you when I first started telling you my story, but you need to see it now. You need to feel it, because only then you'll understand why I did what I'll tell you about soon.

 _The bleak emptiness, the nothingness - it's all I'm surrounded by, all that's inside my heart and soul. It consumes me, makes me a part of it until I can't tell where the darkness begins and I end. Maybe the darkness isn't in me. Maybe I'm the darkness. The abyss. Maybe I am_ —.

 _I'm fucking worthless._

I stopped writing after that. It was hard to drag myself out of the pharmaceutical haze I'd been in for days long enough to pick up a pen. My room, my body, my mind — they became my prison. They shackled me to my bed, glued me to the sheets wet from the drinks I'd spilled, tarnished by cigarette burns and dirtied by ash I couldn't keep from falling onto it every now and then. When I rolled over to get more of my various types of self-medication, the pills that had escaped from their bottles crunched under my back and stuck to my skin. When I had to get up to go to the bathroom, broken glass bit angrily into my feet, but I was too numb to care.

I had no idea when it happened, but at some point I had decided I need a shower. No... a long, relaxing bath. It took me a while to strip my clothes and fill the tub, since I was too hazy to make any fast moves. When I sank into the water I felt alleviated, like all of my worries instantly floated away. I leaned my head against the edge of the tub and breathed in slowly, staring at the blinking light on the ceiling. I tried making a mental note to fix the light or rather have someone fix it for me since I'd probably get electrocuted if I attempted to thinker on my own. That would be bad. Right?

I had left a box of cigarettes on the floor, beats me why and when, but it served me good. I snatched one and, despite the odds, managed to light it on the first try without dropping the lighter into the tub. I inhaled deeply, the smoke feeding my addiction and sedating my mind for a few moments. But I was always restless so I found myself looking back up to the flickering light through the cloud I'd pushed out of my lungs. _Electrocution would hurt_ , I had concluded. That was what bothered me. Not the fact that I'd be dead, but that I'd die painfully. Then again, there weren't many peaceful ways to die young.

Ash fell from the poisonous stick I held onto like a life vest right into the water. It melted and dissolved. Now, that was serene, easy... painless. Could I just melt, could my mind just dissolve and be gone? _Only one way to find out_. I pulled my legs up and slid down the tub, the surface gently parting to let me in, slipping over my head effortlessly. My eyes closed automatically and my breath caught on its way out, keeping some of the smoke in as well. Silence filled my ears, but not the kind of silence I was surrounded by for days. It was that calming silence, the one that allowed you to hear your own steady heartbeat. The one that felt like the water was whispering secrets to you, cluing you into something nobody else was privy to.

I shut down, I let go and it felt blissful. My chest hurt, my lungs burned and begged for air, but I didn't take notice. It wasn't as painful as getting electrocuted... I think. I was going to pass out, I was going to go under and never swim back out and that was fine by me. But then something ruined my nirvana, a noise, a sound. It was so muffled I barely heard it, but it was there, the annoying ringing. My phone was ringing. _Pick it up Adrian. Go pick it up._ But I didn't want to leave my safe place, I didn't want to go back to reality. _PICK IT UP!_

As if I was a puppet whose strings landed in the hands of a giant, I flew up harshly, breaking the surface that so kindly welcomed me in earlier like a knife cutting through paper. I spluttered water, coughing my lungs out as I kicked against the tub to stay upright. I blinked rapidly, gripping the edge to pull myself out and when I did, I hit the tiles as hard as the wave of water that followed me. I crawled towards my phone, trying to get my breathing under control before I answered the damn thing that wouldn't shut up.

A broken whisper came from the other end, a voice that bared so much pain in it that it brought a chill to my bones in an instant. It was Zeke. I hadn't talked to him since high school and now he was calling because... he needed me. He needed my support. He needed me to come to a funeral. Mathew Zeklos. He killed himself. Zeke was the one who found his little brother hanging from the ceiling.

I asked for the time and place. I had no words of consolation to offer, there were no words that could make his pain lesser. When the call ended I dropped my phone and barely made it to the toilet. I puked out everything I'd put into my system in the past couple of days. I puked the darkness out. I flushed it all away and rolled back, leaning against the wall as I ran my shaky hand through my wet hair. Droplets fell into my eyes, but they didn't really make a difference since my eyes were already filled with tears. _What the fuck was I doing? What the fuck did Mathew do? Why did he give up? Who was I kidding, I almost did too._ And then I started sobbing like a child.

Mathew's funeral was a wakeup call. It hit me hard, harder than I thought it would. It got me to pull my shit together and keep grinding. It was a large gathering, filled with shattered people who mourned the death of this... _kid_. He was a goddamn kid, who willing gave up on all of the things life had yet to offer to him. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't wrap my mind around it. _Why?_ , was the burning question everyone there asked silently and didn't get the answer to.

Zeke, a guy who always burned the brightest and unyieldingly stood like a rock, was reduced to a small flicker and crumbled into pebbles. It hurt to see him like this. It hurt that I couldn't help him. When the funeral ended we walked away from the crowd, the silence between us speaking volumes. It was a while before either of us gathered the strength to speak up. It was him who ushered the first words.

"He wasn't doing well."

It was a statement that almost felt like a question, a burden that was weighing heavy on his chest. Like he was blaming himself and, knowing him, he probably was.

"You parents suggested a psychiatrist."

 _Of course they did,_ I thought to myself, but still said nothing on the matter. That same shrink never helped me, so it wasn't a surprise he obviously had no influence over someone who was clearly in a worse place than I was at his age.

"Here", he said, pulling out a little black notebook and handing it to me, "Maybe you'll understand him better than I did."

I took what he offered me, studying the object like it was from outer space. It took me a few moments to collect my thoughts and figure out what I was holding. A diary. Mathew was writing a diary.

"Zeke, I—."

"Please take it Adrian. I can't... I can't bear to look at it. Those are the last words my brother ever got out of his head, there on the last page. They'll kill me if I read them again", he whispered, his eyes glossing over and his lips quivering.

"Okay", I mumbled as he stepped towards me and grabbed my arm, looking for support in the most literal way possible, "Okay."

He fell onto me, hid in my embrace. He was taller than me, but somehow he managed to look small, like we were back in elementary school before he hit his growing spurt. He cried into my shoulder and it broke my heart. What breaks my heart to this very day is that it was the last time I ever saw him. He moved away, away from any reminder of his loss. He ran as far as his legs could carry him and I understood that one hundred percent.

The only thing I was left with afterwards was that diary. I didn't read it at first, I didn't want to. It meant invading someone's privacy, sticking your nose into the most personal business one could have. It felt wrong. So the notebook sat on my nightstand for days. I didn't want to do it I said, but one night, when I reached for the drawer searching for pills, my hand landed on that uneven cover and I finally lifted it to see what was underneath. And what I saw left me breathless.

 _I saw those colours again today_ — _I'm still unspecialized_ — _the bottle moved on its own, I swear_ — _I'm an embarrassment_ — _I read somewhere they're called auras_ — _worthless_ — _I wanted to get my hands on that remote-control so badly and then it was there, right in my hand_ — _waste of space_ — _in my dream he looked so real, I could touch him, feel him in the way I always wanted to, but was too afraid, what would my parents think, what would Zeke think_ — _maybe I wasn't alone_ — _What does shadow-kissed mean?_ — _I'm suffocating_ — _I think I compelled a person today without even meaning to..._

It went on and on, page after page of things I thought I'd never hear from another living being. The problem was — he wasn't living anymore. I wanted to bang my head against the wall and curse at fate that kept royally fucking me over. Mathew was just like me and I would've given anything to turn back time and realize it sooner. Maybe I could've helped him. Maybe he could've helped me. Maybe he still can.

 _I can't do this anymore,_ was the last line I read before I shut his diary and breathed in. _I have to keep doing this_ , was my first thought after I pushed myself out of the bed. _I don't have to do it alone,_ was the second one which resulted in my unannounced visit to my aunt. And she welcomed me with open arms. It turned out she had already dedicated most of her very limited free time to my biggest life problem. It meant the world to me, it saved me. It gave me something to hope for, something to cling to. She was waiting for me to come to her, waiting for me to grow balls and do something about my misery. And she had my back, kept me going throughout the course of the following year.

Don't get me wrong, all of this wasn't easy. I hit a dead end upon a dead end. It took me a hell of a lot of time and effort to reach this one little, seemingly insignificant word — Spirit. That word, however plain it sounds, changed my life completely. I wasn't unspecialized, I wasn't worthless, I wasn't an error in the production of Mother Nature. Actually, I was very special. I was one of the few people on the planet who was gifted with a magic that many couldn't even dream of. One of the few... so there were more people like Mathew and I.

I'd spent years running away from the very thought of my powers and then, all of a sudden, I was surging headfirst into the scary and unknown, exploring something that was only whispered between those who studied the magic of Moroi, scholars my aunt gathered up and brought to me, people who apparently knew more about me and people like me than I did. I learned a lot about Spirit, but it all seemed like I was only reading a prologue of a very long book, a book that had to be narrated by others who could control this element if it was to ever be completed.

I had some experimenting to do as well. It was all a working progress, but I eventually picked up on a few things. Drinking, drugs and meds — they numbed my abilities. Meditating actually helped me enter someone's dreams (yes, at least, I discovered what that incredible night with Megan was) rather than being sucked into them whenever Spirit felt like it. I could influence those dreams, I could reshape reality or, well, the fake reality of the dream to my liking, like I was painting, creating. The colours that Mathew and I saw, auras, they could tell you a lot about a person— what they were like, what they were feeling. And there was more — healing, bringing people back to life, intense compulsion (apparently I wasn't just a charming guy), telekinesis (since Mathew insisted on being able to move things with his mind) and God only knows what else.

To me though, the most important revelation was that Spirit was the element that feed on your essence rather than the world around you. That was the main reason why it was the only element that was significantly taxing both physically and mentally. That explained a lot for sure. Spirit was in its essence light and so whenever it was used, whether intentionally or not, that light dimmed and made room for darkness. It made room for depression, anxiety, insomnia, mood swings. It made room for a growing desire to blow the candle out. It led to Mathew's death. It was the reason I was, once again, alone in this.

However, now comes the part of my story that makes me sound miserably lame. This was the time when Adrian Ivashkov became a stalker. Why? Because my aunt gave me a name, a name I couldn't get off my brain whether I was wide awake or dreaming. A person she was certain belonged to the club of freaks who wielded this element called Spirit. Vasilisa Dragomir.

Vasilisa was the last of the Dragomirs, she was four years younger than me, she was a Spirit User and she was... _missing_. She and her best friend, Rosemarie Hathaway, had disappeared from Saint Vladimir's Academy, completely falling off the grid.

I was beginning to think my luck had turned so bad that if I was acting in a porn movie, I'd be the husband leaving for work before all the fun starts. And for a while I thought I'd be destined to always miss that one big break by a second. Until she was found. It was big news all through our community. Everyone at Court kept blabbing about it twenty-four-seven. Apparently, some newly recruited Guardian from Russia was the one who found those two missing girls and hauled their asses back to school. To say I was relieved would be an understatement. The feeling didn't last long because — leave it to Adrian Ivashkov to find something else to stress about.

See, I had no idea how to approach her. I couldn't exactly be like: _Hey, I'm Adrian. You must be the girl who's a freak just like me. Wanna be miserable and weird together?_ Also, there was still a slight possibility she wasn't like me. I had to stop the urge to rush into this. I had to believe I'd get a chance to meet her at some point without having to barge into her life. And while I waited, I kept learning. I built my confidence back up, maybe even overbuilt it. I became really good. I was in control. Also, I was naughtily digging into this girl's life, trying to learn what little I could about her. I could've made a great detective if I'd chosen such a path in my life.

After months of waiting, who would've thought that a Strigoi attack on a Royal family would create a perfect window of opportunity for me to finally meet Lissa. It's hard to describe the moment when I first saw her. I don't think I'd ever felt so calm and excited at the same time. The golden light that shone through her aura wrapped around me like a blanket and she wasn't even trying to show me her magic. She made me feel... _safe_. I danced around her for a bit until I finally got the courage to truly introduce myself. To this very day I remember the shock in her jade eyes when I first allowed my magic to touch her. I remember the jolt of happiness that went back and forth between us while Rose kept trying to make me back off because Lissa had a boyfriend. Hah, Little Dhampir, she was so feisty.

The night after the pool party I could hardly sleep. I was here, I was finally here. _We did it Mathew_ , I thought as I held on to the dead boy's diary, _we made it._ When morning came I got an unexpected visitor. Vasilisa Dragomir was standing on my doorstep, demanding answers. And this was the part when I started lying like crazy. See, I spent so much time thinking about how I'd approach her and what I'd learn from her that I never stopped to think about what she'd ask of me. I knew I didn't want to share my darkest, deepest secrets with a stranger. I didn't want to tell her how dysfunctional I'd become, how I'd dropped out of college, how the only Spirit User I'd met killed himself, how I'd almost done the same, how clueless I actually was. So I made up a lighter version of my story based on semi-truths and a lot of detail avoiding: I didn't know what Spirit was — I just knew I was different, I kept it all to myself — except when I met others like me, others that knew nothing more than I already did, I was lucky to run into her because that was how I found out what she was.

It took me a long time to share the truth with her. I thought she'd be mad, especially since we'd become close friends in the meantime, but she wasn't. She understood. She had secrets of her own. Actually, she even went as far as to laugh her ass off when I told her about the stalking part. She was glad I did it though. Can you believe it? Then again, if I didn't do that I probably never would've met her. And she needed me as much as I needed her, apparently.

You might notice my diary changed a bit after this. Remember that entry I showed you? The one where I expressed my desire to put a face and a name to this unknown person I was pouring my heart out to. Well...

 _Dear Lissa,_

 _Maybe one day, hopefully in a very distant future, you'll wind up with this diary in your hands, just like I winded up with Mathew's diary. Speaking of Mathew, his little black notebook is still hiding in my old, leather, red bag. You'll find it somewhere, wherever I lived before I bit the dust, it's pretty tacky and hard to miss (I went through a strange fashion phase in high school). You can read it if you wish, Mathew wouldn't mind._

 _Anyhow, if my diary is now in your possession maybe you can put it to good use. I'd already told you about plenty of the things I'd written in here. Still, there are some really bad parts and some pretty embarrassing ones as well. But right now, as I'm writing this, I'd trust no one but you with something this precious to me. This thing consists of my most private thoughts and feelings. It tells my story, all parts of my story._

I wrote to Lissa for a long time. Actually, it wasn't until a few years ago that I changed the person I was "talking" to. Oh, I know, I know. You're dying to see who that person is. Patience, my friends, there is so much more I need to tell you before you get to find out.

Lissa and I broke all the records, crossed all of the lines no one would ever think to cross, we changed the world. And I didn't say that last bit just to be dramatic. We really did change it. Today, there isn't a single academy that doesn't have an instructor for kids with special abilities. There are programs designed to support them both physically and mentally as they learn about the things they can do and the cost of their magic. Spirit Users are no longer alone and isolated, they are no longer freaks. Their fates don't have to be psychiatric wards, prisons, death. Most of them never have to go through what Lissa and I did. Most of them don't end up like Mathew. Most of them—.

 _They are not worthless._

* * *

 **For those of you who made it until the end without wanting to murder me for putting you through this, let me just take a moment to tell you a little something about this chapter. It was hell to write it. It emotionally exhausted me and had me writing through tears in my eyes. But for the first time ever I was actually really proud of something I've written. I allowed myself to pour some raw emotions into this one and a lot of personal shit, so please be kind while reviewing (if you do review it)!**

 **Songs for this chapter: 1. Where Butterflies Never Die - Broken Iris 2. Stranger Inside – Shinedown 3. All In My Mind - Isaac Gracie 4. Built For Sin - Framing Hanley 5. Paralyzed – NF 6. Die Young - Max Frost (Thank you Megan) 7. Last Resort - Papa Roach 8. Familiar Taste Of Poison – Halestorm 9. Drown - Three Days Grace 10. Lullaby – Nickelback**

 **Thanks for reading! Hope you liked this one! Lots of hugs and kisses for all of you until the next time,**

 **T!**


	4. CH4 - The Beauty with a Shiner

Close your eyes. Do it now. Picture a sunny day — not too hot, just that perfect temperature when you feel warm, but you don't wind up covered in sweat. Imagine the gentle rays of sun caressing your skin as they dance across the branches of trees covered in thick blankets of leaves. Trees? Yes, trees of a magnificent forest you're freely wandering through. Now picture a field bathed in sunshine, right there in the middle of it all, green grass swaying from the light breeze, splashed with colourful petals of flowers you can't even name.

You stop and breathe in first: a mix of the fresh air and daring smells of flowers in bloom. You listen: the soft hum of a river falling in slopes over stones somewhere out of sight, the melodic song of birds adding to the magical feel of it all. And then you look. You start walking before the thought fully forms in your head, before you command your legs to move. It's because you're drawn by what you saw when you allowed your eyes to focus, when you allowed them to pick out that one beauty that trumps any other surrounding you. You reach it and move so slow you almost feel like you're not moving at all. That's before a deathly strong force propels you towards the mystical, blood red heart of this thorny entity. What am I talking about? Why a rose of course. What else could be so beautiful and so very, very dangerous at the same time? Not beautiful, hypnotic. So enchanting it has you reaching for it and holding onto it tightly despite the sharp pain it causes as it digs into your palm with its pointy shield.

Why would you ever have to picture any of this, you might wonder. Because there is no other way for me to explain how meeting a girl by the name of that very flower felt like. How out of control and bewitched I was when Rosemarie Hathaway walked into my life.

I could go on and describe her looks to you. I could tell you every single detail of her appearance and form an image so vivid you'd feel like she was standing right before you. You've probably learned so far painting pictures was something I was always rather good at, whether it was with a brush or with words. But instead of doing that, I'll try my best to make you feel her instead of seeing her, because, as shocking as it sounds, it wasn't her alluring looks that had me so hooked right from the start. It was her very essence that spun my world around.

Darkness was there, in her, all the time, ever since I'd met her. Touched by death is what she was. It should've made her soul as black as the shadows constantly surrounding her. She was so young and yet the things she'd lived through aged her in such a brutal way. I remember saying that once, when the Spirit consumed me, driving me into an illusion only my mind learned to embrace as an old friend. I was wrong though. She was the living proof of that overused line _what doesn't kill us_. Yes, it made her so much stronger, made her seek out the things this cruel world tried to take away from her, made her fight that much harder to find that child within herself. She won the war. It was one bloody battle after the other, but her vibrant heart made it through, her innocent mind prevailed.

She was a Dhampir, but if she could use any element whose powers were reserved only for those whose veins were rich with Moroi blood, it would've been Fire. I'm sure of it, because even like this, despite the fact that she wasn't graced with such magic, she set the world on fire. She burned brighter than anything living or dead. And she woke a fire within everyone who she'd touch.

Do you get the picture? Good. Because that's only the tip of the iceberg. Let me just state here that if anyone ever tells you someone's story is too long to be told or written, they are lying their ass off. Everyone's story can be made into a book. The only question: the number of pages you'd need. Rose's story would definitely need plenty of them stretched through several volumes. Maybe a spin-off too. Definitely a spin-off if you included my view of it. However, I don't have the luxury to tell you a book-long story unless you plan on staying here listening to me for months. So, I'll only give you a one chapter version.

I started by describing how it felt to meet Rose, but please don't make the mistake of assuming I was talking about our first encounter. Sure, we met on a porch of a skiing lodge in Aspen, but we didn't truly meet until later. I didn't know her and knowing her was what influenced that description earlier. I can freely admit I was intrigued right from the jump, but I had no idea how important that moment would turn out to be. How life altering. After all, she's one of the main reasons I am who I am today. Still, it'd only be fair to _briefly_ look back at that monumental night.

Raise hands, how many of you enjoy having dinner with your family? How about dinner with your family after you've dropped out of college, spent their money on your runaway trip, dodged their calls when they figured out they weren't paying for your tuition anymore and, finally, asked them to bail you out of jail (don't ask) so you could come back home? Yeah, I didn't think so. Now take that situation and add the info I gave you on my parents. Also, include a few of their snobby _friends_. All in all, fun times.

We didn't even reach the main course when I finished my fifth glass of whiskey, my father's disapproving glare following my hand every time I brought the glass to my lips. I remember how much my blood was boiling and not from the alcohol. I felt trapped, defeated, miserable. I wanted to run, but I had nowhere to go. I knew my demons would follow me everywhere. Running was pointless. I learned that the hard way. Still, I would've gone crazy if I stayed in that room a second longer. I don't recall what I'd said to excuse myself, but I know my father was less than pleased by it. However, he made no attempts to stop me. Stopping me from doing what I'd intended would cause a scene, a scene he couldn't afford if he wanted to prevent me from soiling our _good name_ further.

I took my coat from the checkroom and rushed to the closest door. It led to a large porch that was empty thanks to the sharp weather. I expected the cold, but I didn't think it'd make my teeth clatter, not after the drinks I'd consumed. The alcohol coursing through my veins should've kept me warm, but buttoning my coat, putting on my gloves and huddling against the wall proved to be necessary if I didn't want to freeze to death. I smoked a cigarette and then another one. I think I was half-way through the third when the sound of snow crunching underneath someone's boots caught my attention. I glanced across the porch, at the beaten path beneath it and there she was. Curly hair with snowflakes trapped in it. Flushed cheeks and reddened lips. Thick lashes that hid her eyes. Oh and a big, nasty shiner taking up a big chunk of her beautiful face.

She climbed on the porch, vigorously stomping snow off her boots while I took a drag from my cigarette, somehow inhaling her scent along with it. No perfume, no hair or skin products, nothing masking the smell of her skin that instantly made me think of hot chocolate. But her looks and scent couldn't top the magnetic pull of the energy surrounding her. It made me incapable of peeling my eyes away from her. It made me want to know her, speak to her. I couldn't explain those feelings, couldn't blame them on alcohol or boredom. It was her fault. Rose was irresistible.

I found myself fighting to find words to address her. Somehow, I ended up using her obvious and not particularly flattering traits to form a nickname I didn't know would stick for quite some time.

"Hey, Little Dhampir."

Through the conversation that followed I'd decided I liked her. She had a feistiness to her that reminded me of Kat. She was outspoken and tough. She wasn't easily charmed and that meant she was a challenge. I loved challenges. But then, she told me who she was meant to guard when she graduated and all of those things I'd noticed became unimportant because she was Rose Hathaway, Vasilisa Dragomir's best friend. She was my way in.

Alright, fine, settle down! I'll admit, getting chummy with her didn't hurt. She was one of the most gorgeous girls I'd seen after all. But, I promise, she wasn't my primary goal. Not at first at. Befriending her meant I could get to Lissa. They were as thick as thieves and shared a connection so rare and intriguing not a single person on this planet could claim to be indifferent towards it, Spirit User or not.

My patience was already running thin, so it was no surprise I found myself starving to learn more about them. My first step: pulling Rose into a Spirit dream. I couldn't look at her aura when I first saw her. I'd dulled my magic with alcohol. But when I brought her back to that porch and took a look at her again, I was blown away. See, aura's usually follow the complexity of someone's personality. If someone is plain, shallow or simple their aura shows it. Little colors, faint density. Follow this logic, figure it out on your own what Rose is like when I—, actually, when the younger version of me tells you what he saw:

 _I'd never seen anything like it. Her aura wasn't made of sparks. It wasn't a lenient cloud floating around her. It was a tsunami of colors. Radiant, vivid, hypnotizing. I was drawn to it like a moth, helplessly falling into the merciless flames she seemed immune to. In its essence, her aura was a warning. A STOP sign. If you ignored it, you risked heading straight into a car crash. And I took a risk. A big risk. I allowed the bright, passionate red streaked with vibrant orange to consume me. I enjoyed sinking into the dark, erotic purple that proved she was as wild as I'd assumed. I smiled at the lulling yellow that popped up when I made jokes or flirted with her. No one was perfect. The muddy blue and grey showed me sides of her I was sure she wouldn't be proud of. They also proved she wasn't as fearless as she wanted people to think._

 _It was exciting to see who Rose Hathaway was beneath her shield, learn those little details she had no idea I could easily see. Then, the eclipse happened. One minute she was this neon explosion of colors, the next she was... death. Black, menacing shadows wrapped around her so quickly I could do nothing but watch them snuff her light out. They were everywhere, they were inescapable. And when they settled down, I realized they were there to stay. Always dancing around her, surrounding the lively palette, threatening to take over._

Yep, as you can see, Rose was almost as big of a mess as me. A hell of a complex mess too. And, if you thought her aura was crazy in that dream, you should've seen it when I first ran into her and Dimitri. Shish! Oh, come on, not you too! Seriously, is there a single person on this freaking planet who doesn't swoon when I mention Dimitri Belikov? What was that Buttercup? Ha huh, see, my wife's got my back. Yep, sorry, no nicknames, GOT IT! You Dimitri lovers are really gonna get me in trouble. Don't worry though. I'll talk about your precious Russian Warlord soon enough. But, for now, back to Rose.

Rose in a bikini. Now that's a sight you don't forget easily. Or a sight you can stop from invading your dreams for quite some time after it. However, the night she and her friends came to the pool party, I had more important things to think about than Rose's swimming suit. Like Lissa. Not that I didn't make up for my lack of attention to Rose later. The perfumes I'd bought her were in a way my apology for using her without her even knowing it. The non-stop flirtations were, to her annoyance, my other way of ' _making up_ ' for it. Ultimately it was a fun and, at first, carefree dance between us.

I'd realized Rose had become important to me when she and the band of idiots I now call my friends took off to go to Spokane. Using my abilities to try to find her... well, I wouldn't do that for just anyone. Especially, after how long I'd tried to stay away from my powers and their toll. Sure, to Lissa and her, it probably seemed like I was using Spirit on a daily basis, but the reality was — I was still terrified of it. And, once she was rescued... okay, rescued isn't the word anyone should use in the same sentence with Rose's name, for their own sake mostly. I'm pretty sure she'd suckerpunch you for making her sound like a damsel. So instead, I'll say: once she was _back_ from Spokane, something in her changed. I could see it clearly whenever I looked at her aura. She had several brushes with death over the course of her life and when I say brushes, I mean they mostly rubbed together like horny teenagers. Seeing someone she loved and even felt responsible for die... well, for her, that was something else entirely. And it happened more than once unfortunately, but we'll get to that later.

At first, I thought it was nothing more than plain old survivor's guilt that made the darkness following her around increase. Then again, nothing was ever really that simple when it came to Rose. It took some time, a lot of observing and investigative work that'd put Sherlock Holmes to shame, but in the end I realized her state could be blamed on more than the loss she'd suffered. It was Spirit. Its side-effects were tormenting her. Odd, huh? Understatement. She wasn't a Spirit User or even Moroi yet it was clear she was experiencing the hell Spirit brought on. Since she didn't wield magic and her only " _access_ "to it was through her bond with Lissa, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. She was soaking up Lissa's madness and neither of them even knew it. Combine that with death's claws still hooked into her and you've got yourself a lethal combination.

 _I was terrified. I couldn't do anything to help Rose as she thrashed and begged us to make whatever was hurting her stop. The restricting shell of our plane became suffocatingly small when she started screaming, desperately trying to fight off her invisible assailants. The black circles around her aura spread and it felt like they'd wrap around the rest of us too, like they'd fill the plane from its tail to nose until there was nothing but darkness left. Was this what it'd be like? Would I be just as defenseless and paralyzed by my own mind when madness finally claimed it? Will I drag everyone down with me?_

Yep, as you can see, Rose's breakdown after Victor Dashkov's trial made me think about what fate awaited _me_ since I quickly realized she was only taking a part of Lissa's negativity. See, at that time, I was all alone. No sharing of Spirit's toll for me, no Sir. I was royally fucked and I hadn't even lost my mind yet... not entirely at least. I think.

Anyhow, most of you probably had enough of this dreadful talk so let me cut in with a little something else. To quote Dr. Shrink: Let's talk about feelings. Feelings are fickle. Good or bad. Weak or strong. Anticipated or surprising. I'd go on, but surely you've all felt them so you don't really need wordy elaborations. As soon as I developed them towards Rose, I was in trouble. Big trouble. Because they were strong. At times too strong even. And though they didn't exactly take me by surprise, they still struck me hard. I told you she and I had tangoed for a while and it was all fun and games at first. It was easy, amusing and, honestly, kind of liberating. But then I found myself paying attention to my own flirty comments, realizing I wanted them to have a bigger impact. I wanted Rose and, at some point, that desire turned into more than a challenge or fantasy of getting her into my bed.

As you might have noticed, I rarely denied myself anything. And, though I knew it was ultimately up to her whether something would happen between us or not, I was certain I wouldn't pass on having her if such opportunity was to arise. So, imagine my surprise when it was exactly what I did. I put my fast growing desires aside and resisted her when she had no resistance towards me at all. Why? Because I'd rather be bulldozed to death than force someone into something they don't truly want. See, the first time I came close to feeling her lips on mine was the time she'd asked me to compel her. Oh, but how I wanted her. I knew it wasn't real, but seeing her look up at me as if she was worshipping me, parting her lips while she waited for mine to conquer them... maybe she was the one being compelled but I was just as charmed and hypnotized. Still, I couldn't, wouldn't have her until _she_ was the one who wanted me and not her manipulated mind. I just didn't realize how long that would actually take. I know some of you may argue she'd never want me, at that moment or any other in the future, just as I've tried to convince myself a few times to make what had happened between us later easier on my broken heart. But she did want me, just not as much as Dimitri. But I also know now that actually turned out good for the both of us.

Back to the dreadful talk: Rose was a wreck when Dimitri died. Oh right, you little devils already know he didn't _die_ die. He simply took a short vacation from aging and having a soul. Still, to this very day, I'd never seen Rose in the same state she was in after the attack on Saint Vlad's. And I don't want to. Ever.

It was then that I was reminded of what it felt like to be selfless. And I was, despite what you may think. Sure, I asked her to give me a chance once she came back, but that wasn't why I gave her money. I funded her plans because I didn't know how else to help her. It was impossible to take her pain away. It was (at least I thought it was) impossible to bring Dimitri back. But if going away would help her heal, I was willing to go as far as piggybacking her to the other side of the planet.

Oh, fun fact, it was while Rose was on her Russian egg hunt, as I like to call it, that she'd met my lovely future wife. Yes, I know you're well aware of that, but we all also know how difficult it is for me not to mention the love of my life whenever I get a chance. Anyhow, while Rose was on her crazy journey I kept in touch with her through Spirit dreams. I won't bore you with details because there might be one too many of them, but those dreams were all I could do not to go insane from worry and longing. That was definitely a good time for me to start admitting I was hooked on her and she was pretty hooked on... endorphins. Yep, you can blame your precious Dimitri for that or, at least, the not so charming and nice version of him.

From everything I've told you so far you know I for one wasn't judging Rose, but I was past being worried. Getting rid of an addiction was tremendously hard on any given day, but under the circumstances she was in, it must have been a nightmare. But, I did say she was a fighter, didn't I? She made it through all of it, killing (as we initially thought) her lover and coming back home. Funny thing, I picked her up from the airport and guess what? That time around I was the one with a shiner on my eye. We made quite a pair. No, seriously, we still do. Just not as lovers, but as friends. After everything, good and bad, Rose and I discovered it was awesome to be _just_ friends. It took us... okay, _me_ , a bit of time to get to that realization but I'm glad I did. I love Rose, truly, and she's one hell of a friend to have too. But before we became friends (for the second time), we were something else. Want to know how I managed to finally take her out on a date? You already do to some extent, but here's something special for those of you who've stuck around so far:

 _Why dating me is the BEST idea ever_

 _By Adrian Ivashkov_

 _1\. I'm awesome. No really, I am. You've got to know that by now!_

 _2\. I'm almost as pretty as you so we'd make a gorgeous couple._

 _3\. I vow to continuously flirt with you (even when you think I'm overstepping) 'cause I'm a sound believer in keeping things interesting._

 _4\. I'm a great partner to have when playing board games... I swear, I can kick serious ass and I know how much you like to win._

 _5\. I'll try to keep alcohol consumption to a minimum, I promise. And I'm just as fun sober as I am drunk. Maybe even more fun._

 _6\. Because I know your dislike for them: I'll give up cigarettes. Unless I really, really need one. How's that for devotion?_

 _7\. You do remember I told you I'll heal amputees one day? I think that's pretty impressive._

 _8\. I'll unleash romantic surprises every week, such as: an impromptu picnic, roses, or a trip to Paris - but not actually any of those things because now they're not surprises._

 _9\. You have no idea how good I am at kissing (and other related activities) and if you date me you'll find out. Hmm, maybe I should've put this at the beginning of this list and just left it at that. It's a really good selling point._

 _10\. I made it to a double digit even though I hate homework which this totally feels like... that's ought to count for something, right?_

Okay, yeah, I could've done a better job at this, but HEY it did the trick. She gave me a chance to prove myself and I believe I've done well. I must have because I'm sure there wouldn't have been a relationship for me to talk about if I didn't. And, in the course of a few months, what a relationship it was. Sure, it wasn't always great. We had our problems. I'd say they were the same kind all couples have, but it'd be a lie. I'm pretty sure most couples don't argue over undead lovers and jailbreaks for starters.

When we began dating I discovered a side of her I never knew existed. She'd kill me if she could hear me say this, but Rose could be quite... shy. For someone who looked ready to bite half of your thigh off for foreplay, it sure surprised me to see her gentle side shining through. It was adorable how flustered she could get. At first I thought she simply wasn't used to the idea of us dating, but soon realized she was more insecure than she'd let on. Give her a Strigoi to fight and she'll be fearless. Let your hands wander where they shouldn't and she'll blush until you mistake her for a strawberry. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised though. Most stories about her were nothing more than false and empty tales of envious people. But Rose was still Rose. I didn't let that small, for the lack of a better word, weakness fool me. She could kick ass like nobody's business.

Okay, I really tried not to, but... I just have to tell you about the first time she did something I didn't expect, but secretly hoped for. Not because I'm kinky (though I admit I am) but because it meant something entirely different to me. I know what you're thinking and no, it wasn't her letting me bite her. It was what she did after graduation. That was the moment I actually began believing what we had will last. It was also when I started lying to myself so much I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. Because I wanted it to be true. I was desperate to hold onto the idea that she was over Dimitri. That she was all in. That she was mine.

We were walking back from the party, hand in hand, chatting about... hell, I don't even remember what, when she halted midstep. Her abrupt stop made me still too. I turned to ask her what was wrong, but before I could speak she threw herself at me. With her, the line between fighting and loving was pretty thin. I guess Dimitri could be blamed for that too. Sometimes when we were making out it was more like we were wrestling. Knowing she felt comfortable with that, I played along. And she appreciated my efforts. We both knew she could overpower me and yet she'd often let me win. But, when she jumped me that night, I actually thought she might really want to beat me up that time around. If not for her lips on mine, perhaps I would've even tried to fight her off. She kissed me with more passion than ever before and, when she pulled back and looked up at me, her eyes darker than usual, I shivered when she said: "Take me to your room."

I didn't need to be told twice. The next thing I knew, we slipped into one of those cliche movie scenes: running and laughing, kissing each other dizzy while I tried to find my keys, tumbling through the door and kicking it shut, tearing each other's clothes off and then... the cold shower came. She ripped herself out of my grasp, blushing fiercely as she mumbled: "I, I don't want—. I mean I do, just not—."

Her words trailed off and she looked away. I took a step towards her and picked up one of her wild locks, twirling it around my finger before tucking it behind her ear. I waited until her eyes flickered up to say: "I'm not in a rush."

I didn't have to elaborate. We understood each other completely. I wanted to take things further with her, but at her pace. She was more than worth the wait. I kissed the tip of her nose and she giggled, her fingers coming up to curl around my neck. She tiptoed her way to a kiss and then whispered: "You're awesome."

"Which is exactly what I stated in my dating proposal. It was the first thing on the list Little Dhampir. Pay attention."

She laughed before adding: "What was number 9 again?"

"This", I replied and then I kissed her again.

We didn't go too far that night, but it was the first time Rose slept in my bed. She glued to me and nuzzled against my chest. I played with her hair until she drifted off. I got high on her scent, the feel of her heated skin against mine, her closeness. And then, just as I was about to fall asleep as well, I heard her mumble something. I knew she was dreaming and wasn't aware of what she had spoken, but my eyes still snapped open and my heart skipped a beat. _I love you_. Those three words made my mind burst and I quickly found myself with a decision to make. And I decided to chose a lie. It was a dangerous lie, but I convinced myself she was dreaming of... well, anyone but Dimitri. It didn't have to be me. Not yet. I just didn't want it to be him. So, it wasn't him as far as I was concerned. _That_ was the start of my downfall, though I didn't know it yet. Because it was him. It was always him. Everything she did was either for him or Lissa. No one else mattered. Not that much.

Now, if you wondered what I did when Rose went on her second "Save Dimitri" mission, here is your answer. Nothing. I let it happen. I didn't stop her, not that I or anyone else could. I didn't exactly help her either. I just tagged along. I kept telling myself it would be fine. We'd be fine. I repeated it over and over, until the last whispers of warning disappeared from my head. And when she succeeded and brought him back, I continued deluding myself. I was a goddamn fool. Contrary to what I was trying to make myself believe though, I accused her of the opposite which I admit was even more foolish. As a dream-walker, I should've known the difference between reality and imagination, but as a half-lunatic, I guess the line between the two became too blurry to pick out. What certainly didn't help was that she chose to hide the truth from me. I could've sought it out. One glimpse at her aura and I would've known everything I needed to know. But I was afraid, of what I'd see, of losing her. So I stayed blind.

The last thing that tipped the scales, the reason Rose and I stayed together was—, I really need you to settle down ma'am! I promise, I'll keep it PG 13. My wife is in the other room for fuck's sake. And yes, I'm going to talk about the best non-sex or at least the best for 21 year old Adrian. See, it wasn't just about the act itself. Sure, I enjoyed everything preceding the moment my fangs pierced her skin and then fell into a delirious bliss when it happened. However, the more important thing was the meaning behind her actions. She let Lissa bite her to survive. Wanted Dimitri to do it because he got her hooked. But with me... I knew she didn't do it to please me or because she felt obliged to give me something. She did it for herself as much as for me. It was a show of trust that made me trust her back. It was an unspoken promise that she'd try to put me first. And she did try, but fate had different plans. Also, as usual, I didn't even have time to relish in that moment because my life went to shit pretty soon after it. Like literally the next morning.

You think it's bad when you hear your girlfriend's been hauled of to imprisonment while you were sleeping. Trust me, it's even worse when you hear the reason for it. _The Queen is dead_. Those words nearly killed me. I tried to keep it together for my friends, for Rose, for everyone really. But I'd lost the person who cared for me the most. I'd lost someone I loved beyond words. I'd lost my rock. And for what? Why would anyone kill her? Sure, she wasn't the sweetest, but she didn't deserve to die. Especially not like that. However, I didn't have a lot of time to grieve her. Perhaps it was for the best. Distractions always proved useful to me, despite making things more difficult to deal with once they were gone.

Seriously, name one person who'd willingly help their girlfriend escape prison and run off with her former lover. Go ahead. I'll wait. No? I didn't think so. I guess that means I remain the proud president of Club Idiot all by my lonesome. Don't get me wrong. I didn't, for a second, regret helping her escape what would've quickly turned into death row, but I regretted not going with her every day we were apart. I was yet again forced to only see her in her dreams and each time I did, it got harder and harder to let her go. And the weird thing is, the fact that Dimitri was with her wasn't what bothered me the most. Actually, I was glad he was because I knew he'd protect her with his life. What I actually found impossible to deal with was that she was away when I needed her the most. Because when all this shit hit the fan, I realized I'd been lied to by not one, but two people I loved and thought of as my true family. My mother and aunt had more secrets than I could comprehend. I suddenly felt like there was a crazy party going on and I wasn't invited. That was definitely something I wasn't used to. I was betrayed and I had no one to turn to.

Now, remember how I told you I avoided looking at Rose's aura. Well, sometimes it was impossible to do it. And it's just my luck that I'd unknowingly done it right after she had sex with her not so ex lover. Oh JOY! If that wasn't a hint she was no longer sticking to her 'stay away from Dimitri and be with Adrian' plan than I have no idea what was. But, I told you, I was a fool. Just before I left what was to be the last Spirit dream she and I would share for a while, I kissed her. What was that kiss like? How did it feel? What did it tell me? Well, I guess you'll know when I say it was the last time I kissed her like that too.

I ran from the truth a long time, but it was bound to catch up. I could tell you how I felt when I was smacked with it, when I saw Dimitri and Rose... but I won't! Not now. I'll save that story for another time. The tale of Adrian Ivashkov's heartbreak will have to wait. I'll tell you this though. Despite how I felt and what I'd said to her when we officially broke up —I loved her. And the pain of her unfaithfulness was nothing, NOTHING compared to the agony I'd felt when I thought I'd lose her and not because of Dimitri, but because of her getting shot.

I remember that moment, every detail of it: the gun going off, Rose falling despite Lissa's attempts to catch her, Lissa's screams when they dragged her away, hands grabbing me as I tried to fight my way to Rose, someone pulling me back while I begged them to let me help her. I remember being on lockdown with Lissa, pacing back and forth as I prayed to... hell, whoever would listen, for her to be alright. For her to stay. And I swore on my life, I'd do anything, give anything if death allowed her to escape it one last time. And it did, it let her slide. If it didn't, who knows what our lives would've been like. When I say _our_ , I mean all of us who love her, all of us who were touched and changed by her.

Now, I know this might seem like an abrupt way to stop (I'm not gonna lie, it is), but I've decided to conclude this day by skipping waaaaay up ahead. This isn't the last time I'll talk about Rose Hath—, sorry, Belikova. First off, I owe you a story about our break up. Second, which is certainly way more important to you all if I'd learned anything about my auditorium, I owe you a story about the one and only Dimitri Belikov. And let's face it, you can't talk about Dimitri and not include Rose. Lastly, hers and my life had ways of tangling and intercepting quite a lot so I'm pretty sure I'll be obliged to mention her every now and then anyways.

 **Cue epic background instrumental for the waaaaay ahead part:**

Years have passed, she has grown. Her face, those lines that formed around her lips and eyes when she smiled — tell-tale to her age, they paled in comparison to what she still had within her. One day, when she takes her last breath, even though I probably won't be there to see it, I know there is going to be a child in those old, dark eyes. I'm sure it will be there, smiling back at the person she'll spend her last moments with, giving the world one last victorious bow.

* * *

 **Wow, I can't believe it's already been a year since I started writing this little monster! It's taking me forever, I know, but this is the story I'm most proud of so I'm not rushing it! It's very special cause it was dedicated to and inspired by a VERY special person who's bday is today! Happy birthday Gaya, you wonderful woman! I hope this year of your life is 10 times better than the last and I hope all of your wishes come true!**

 **Special thanks to my amazing helper Megan! As always, I couldn't have done this without you!**

 **Songs for this chapter: 1. Tribulation - Matt Maeson (the ultimate Rodrian song) 2. Like That - Bea Miller 3. Tightrope - The Score 4. Over and Over - Three Days Grace 5. Car Crash - Three Days Grace 6. Naked - James Arthur 7. Angel - Theory of a Deadman 8. Lonely Boy - The Black Keys 9. How You Remind me - Nickelback 10. Chains - Nick Jonas**

 **Thanks for reading! Reviews and PM's with feedback are always appreciated!**

 **XOXO T!**


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